


Homeward Bound

by die_traumerei



Series: Castle Terra [7]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Human, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Communication, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Disabled Aziraphale (Good Omens), Disabled Character, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, F/F, Family, Family Feels, Feelings, Light Angst, Masturbation, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Past Violence, Road Trips, Sex, Sleepy Cuddles, Trans Crowley (Good Omens), Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 51,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26289787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/pseuds/die_traumerei
Summary: At long last, Aziraphale and Crowley travel to see Madame, and the kingdom where Aziraphale grew up. Featuring Crowley getting on a horse and not dying, a stopover with an old friend, lots of family-related feelings, and possibly a slight fetishization of the prairie landscape.And, because it's them, lots of questions and talking and thinking and being in love, and an awful lot of sex, too.(Part of the Castle Terra series. I guess you could read it standalone, but there's a lot of established stuff that you'll be playing catch-up on....)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Castle Terra [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1801759
Comments: 123
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This one's going to be a long one! I'll probably update a chapter every few days, to make sure I stay written ahead.

Aziraphale closed the harvest book with a heavy _thump_ , stretched her neck, and sighed happily. Another year done, another winter's survival guaranteed. Her records were meticulous and careful, not least due to the careful reckoning of Terra's farmers. Far better than the endless arguing mixed with fear at Heaven's Court. There was still some dickering, of course, but it was mostly in good humour and Colin sitting nearby tended to keep in line anyone who thought he could get one over on the supercilious old maestra.

The fact that she knew expected rates of grain per acre helped with the rest, mind.

Still – that was the season done, and she smiled as her day ended, the gold sunlight creeping in low and sweet through the windows as she stood and stretched out sore shoulders and hands. Some of the books she would keep out to review with the King and his council, but most were done, just the latest in the vast collection of records going back centuries.

The air was sweet and dry so she moved easily, filing away what needed it and taking a stab at tidying up the rest. Normally her desk was a bit of a jumble, and she liked it that way, but she was going on holiday. It seemed polite to at least make an attempt, in case anyone came looking for something important. She'd be gone for a good fortnight, after all, and that alone had her giving a happy little wiggle as she put the last of the records away.

For, at last, she was going to go visit Madame. Just for a few days, but Crowley was going to come with her! And the prairie would be so lovely, the air rich and full of the smells of autumn, the hot summer transmuted into a delicious bite in the air. There would be apples and cider and chilly mornings spent cuddled in bed with her Princess, and showing Crowley her home country, the place where she'd healed, the house that had become her home before Terra was her whole heart. And showing Madame what  _Aziraphale_ was like when given the chance to excel. To belong, and be comfortable, eat enough and have fun and be loved. 

Aziraphale ducked into her bathroom to let her hair down from the two thick braids she'd put it in for work, first unpinning the heavy coronet of hair, then unbraiding it and shaking the waves loose. Given fifteen minutes, they would regain their curl, and that was the end of any control she might have over her hair. She settled her fillet back in place and hoped that would hold down the cloud of silver-gilt that was soon to come.

Aziraphale didn't much like wearing make-up, so skipped her tiny collection of cosmetics (and the larger collection Crowley kept here). She did, however, adjust the neckline of her gown. It was new, and very fashionable, based directly off of some plates that her dressmaker had got from a friend in a much larger, more cosmopolitan kingdom. Perfect for the end of the summer, the gown was diaphanous, made of layers of very thin cotton gauze. The nipped-in waist was just below Aziraphale's bosom, with folds of soft fabric cascading down, brushing her hips and belly and legs. The drawstring neckline could be adjusted; for work, of course, she kept it quite decent, covering her bosom entirely. However, the plate had showed the fashion to be very low-cut, with – after close examination – little blushes of pink, hints of areola. Smiling to herself, Aziraphale retied the drawstring so that someone close to her – someone, say, embracing her and kissing her – would spot the soft pink of her nipples. And, of course, the curve of her cleavage, her breasts pressed sweetly together.

She grinned at her reflection – a hard sneeze,and she'd be popping out! It was tempting, and sexy, and perfect for her demoness.

One last check – Crowley was happy with her no matter what, but she did rather like to make an effort – and a bottle of wine in hand, Aziraphale left the library and made the short walk through castle halls, letting herself into Crowley's rooms.

“Hullo, love,” she sang out, and her heart stopped at the beauty before her.

The late-afternoon sun was flooding in golden, lighting up Crowley's sitting room. Neat as a pin (in contrast to the Library), there weren't even dust motes floating in the air. Crowley's orrery gleamed in the light, and the sofa was cast in comfortable shade, a cozy blanket just waiting for chilly feet. And Crowley herself at her loom, her hair in intricate braids that glowed red-gold, a little more gold after a summer spent in the sunshine. She was graceful, head bent as she worked on one of her smaller looms, braced between her belly and the edge of a table. She was so beautiful, something stuck in Aziraphale's throat.

Someday, Crowley was going to stop loving Aziraphale. Someday she'd realise she could do better, and it would end. Someday this wouldn't be Aziraphale's anymore, unless she got really lucky and Crowley still wanted to be friends.

Aziraphale shook her head, telling the stupid thoughts to fuck off. They were wives, or good as. This wouldn't end. Crowley had the same fears about her; they'd talked and loved each other and held one another through frightened confessions. And loved each other all the harder, denying the little thing in each of their souls that said they weren't worthy of love. Years of love now. Well; nearly two anyway.

“Oh, beauty,” she breathed, when all this ran through her head in moments, and Crowley looked up and smiled at her.

“Beauty yourself,” she said, and her eyes glowed, as golden as the light. She set the loom on the table, still twisted, how was she so _graceful_ , and held out her arms. “Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale smiled and set the wine on a handy small table, crossing the big room and laughing when Crowley pulled her down to straddle her lap, their bellies and bosoms pressed together as they kissed.

“The sun was lighting you up, you looked like a real angel,” Crowley murmured, kissing her throat.

“You were glowing. Are glowing.” Aziraphale tilted her head back. “I was afraid, for a moment, for the day this would all end.”

“My poor dove.” More soft kisses, beneath her ear this time. “That will never happen. I'll love you til the grave, and then beyond.”

Aziraphale smiled, comforted. She couldn't imagine death keeping her from loving Crowley either. “I love you too. Forever.” Reassured, Aziraphale kissed her again, opening her mouth soft, Crowley's tongue licking in, the promise of other warm, wet places later.

Or maybe not so later. Aziraphale groaned as Crowley caressed her bosom, the kiss breaking so she could arch her back.

“Oh! For me?” Crowley asked, thumb brushing over the curves of areola, pink and pretty, visible just at the neckline.

Azirpahale moaned assent, and sighed happily when the very lightest tug had her breasts spilling out of her dress and into Crowley's greedy hands.

“You are so good to me,” she gloated, squeezing softly – and then pinching her nipples not-very-softly so that Aziraphale's cunny tightened, and she cried out.

“So pretty. So responsive,” Crowley approved. “Oh, my angel, you've worked so _hard_. I'm so, so proud of you. I'm so proud to be yours.” Another hard pinch, Aziraphale's nipples peaked and stiff, and the tiny zing of pain-pleasure went straight between her legs.

“I worked – ah! – hard,” Aziraphale gasped. “For the kingdom. For you. Want you to be proud of me. And my good work.”

“Oh my God, _angel_. I am so proud, every day. Unspeakably so,” Crowley said, and lowered her head to suckle at a nipple, breast cupped in her hand while Aziraphale began to rock, just a little. “Your Princess approves,” she whispered softly into Aziraphale's skin. “What a good Maestra.”

Aziraphale gasped. “What...what else would please my Princess?” They liked this little game; where Crowley was the commanding royal and Aziraphale her subordinate, existing only to please her beloved Princess. They were still figuring out a good story to reverse it, for when Crowley needed to please and serve and Aziraphale to give orders.

(“After all,” Crowley had said when they first discussed it early in the summer. “You're not due to sprain your ankle and need some nursing for another few months, considering the schedule you've set.”

Aziraphale had shoved her into a pile of hay and wasn't a bit sorry.)

Crowley smiled, nuzzling one of Aziraphale's breasts. “I want you to get yourself off in my lap, while I hold you and kiss you, just like this, beautiful girl.”

Aziraphale nodded, hiking her soft dress up over her thighs. She was wearing short drawers, just to her knees, and the split in them was already open the way she straddled Crowley's legs. Her fingertips brushed over her thick labia and she gasped, already sensitive. She was dishevelled, her breasts spilling out of her dress and her lips kiss-swollen as Crowley pinched one of her nipples again, hard, and she cried out.

“Sweetheart,” Crowley breathed. “Will you fuck me later, please?” Where Aziraphale could happily orgasm all day and night, Crowley was pretty one-and-done, and so they saved her orgasms for special times, careful not to end the fun, hours-long foreplay too soon.

Aziraphale nodded and moaned, fingertips slipping between her labia, starting to rub in earnest. She loved the feel of the leather straps around her thighs, and how sweet it was to have Crowley on her back, legs up on Aziraphale's shoulders, sliding into her so tenderly. Her cock would be dark and throbbing, curved against her belly, and it was the most beautiful thing Aziraphale could imagine.

“Oh, you like that thought,” Crowley approved, and Aziraphale nodded hard, rocking onto her hand as she got herself off to please her Princess.

Crowley for her part alternated soft kisses with bites, caresses with hard squeezes to the thick muscles of Aziraphale's thighs, the little sparks of pain driving her on while Crowley cooed her approval of her pretty, debauched angel until, hair loose and tangled, breasts out of her dress and long, soft folds of fabric hiked up over her hips, she came with a cry, shaking, soaking her own hand.

Aziraphale moaned, her head on Crowley's shoulder as her beloved rocked her a little, comforted and cuddled and soothed her down from the sweet little orgasm.

“There we are,” she murmured, as Aziraphale sighed and snuggled closer. “My _beauty_. Oh, love.” Only gentle touches now, stroking Aziraphale's hair. “You worked so hard, darling. Now you can rest. ”

Aziraphale smiled. “Until tomorrow when we set off.”

Crowley chuckled. “Yes, but you like riding, not much of a hardship there.” She kissed Aziraphale's forehead, right at her hairline. The little scar from her awful fall that first winter was still there, though mostly hidden by fluffy curls. She rocked her angel, and enjoyed fussing over her, kissing and being soft at her. And enjoyed how Aziraphale soaked it up, eyes closed in pleasure as she was cuddled and loved, Crowley dropping little kisses on her face and reminding her how good she was, and how hard she worked, and how Crowley was going to take care of her now.

Soon enough, though, Aziraphale got a little wiggly, and Crowley had to admit her legs were falling asleep from the woman in her lap. “Right, let's get you put back together. Did I bite too hard, love?”

“Never,” Aziraphale said, stretching deliciously and moving to stand, the skirt of her dress shaking loose. It was a little crumpled, but the soft gauzy fabric would smooth out soon enough.

Aziraphale re-tied her neckline, keeping it set low, the edges of her nipples just peeping out, if mostly covered by the shirring there. Crowley licked her lips, and Aziraphale shot her a cheeky grin.

“Show me what you were working on?” she asked, and Crowley pulled herself back to the ordinary, lovely things of life, showing off the soft fabric that would be stitched together to make a blanket for a cousin's new baby.

“It's beautiful,” Aziraphale said, and kissed Crowley's cheek. “What a lucky babe, to be born into love.”

“Aww.” Crowley blushed and got her arms around Aziraphale's waist. “Shut up. C'mon and have something to drink, you're all silly.”

“If you didn't want me silly, you shouldn't have made me come,” Aziraphale informed her prissily, and giggled as Crowley scowled. She also accepted a glass of heavy golden wine with a kiss, and they settled on a little two-seater that gave them a lovely view of the gardens.

Crowley rested her head on Aziraphale's shoulder, and grinned when Aziraphale's arm curved up, wrapping around her face and tilting it so she could be kissed on the forehead. Easy and casual and close; they were used to touching one another now, and knew exactly how their bodies fit together. Even the little variations; when Aziraphale was having a bad pain day, or Crowley had more dysphoria than usual. When one carried a little hurt, a natural side-effect of life in a rural castle, or when a hot bath and plenty of lovemaking left them easy and soft.

Just now, they were both relaxed and sweet, quiet as they watched the sun lower in the sky together. Not quite the coming on of sunset, not just yet, but a stealing in of warmer, more golden light that would ease into dark and winds that scattered a few more golden leaves, left a branch newly-bared.

Aziraphale kissed Crowley's head, arm still in place, scritching her scalp with rough fingertips. “Tell me your thoughts, sweet?”

“I was remembering,” Crowley said, eyes closing in pleasure. “The first time I saw you. You were so indignant at me, and you were _so_ beautiful.”

“Well, you were a drowned rat,” Aziraphale teased, and kissed her head again. “My silly girl, brooding in the rain. I thought you were a servant,” she admitted. “I should have guessed otherwise, from your total lack of common sense.”

Crowley laughed. “You should have!” She smiled, and squeezed Aziraphale's waist. “I liked you so much, instantly, but I was also...afraid.”

“What? I didn't know that!” Aziraphale laughed. “Baby, what on earth were you afraid of? I'm just _me_.”

“There is no 'just' about you, Aziraphale,” Crowley told her, and set her wineglass aside, the better to get both arms around her lovely, squishy waist. “I liked you so much, right away. But I'm not very educated, and I don't know things, and I can't read. I thought we'd be friends until you found someone better, smarter. And it was going to hurt, to have you drop me when you knew how much I wasn't...right.”

“Oh my God,” Aziraphale breathed. “I had no idea. I know you have it in your head that you're not...smart enough, or whatever. But I had no idea. My poor love.” She pulled Crowley practically into her lap, and offered her a sip from her own glass. “You extraordinary woman, there's no one better than you.” She cuddled rather aggressively, but Crowley wasn't going to complain. She got to rest her head on Aziraphale's pale expanse of bosom, and be fed sweet wine.

“You're silly, but you're also married to me, so nyah,” Crowley said, making her laugh, and take a sip herself, after toasting Crowley silently. 

“Well _you're_ married to _me_ , so nyah,” Aziraphale told her, and kissed her brow.

“What were you really thinking? When I told you I was a princess?” Crowley asked idly.

“That I'd made it all of a week before fucking up,” Aziraphale said ruefully. “That I was already off to a poor start in this new place, mortally insulting a princess of the land. That...I was in danger,” she admitted softly. “I didn't know how angry you'd be, that I had been yanking you around and scolding you, when I had no right even to speak to you.”

“Oh, angel.” Teasing paused for a moment, so Crowley could hug her tenderly, as soft as she could be. “The things they taught you...” She pressed little kisses to Aziraphale's face, and nuzzled her soft cheek. “Were you still afraid after I told you not to kneel?”

“Crowley, I am still afraid _now_ , sometimes,” Aziraphale said. “It became a habit. But...well, it snapped me out of the worst of it, I suppose? I wasn't going to get beaten, or thrown out, and you were...kind. Beyond all reason.”

“That's a lot to...hang on, angel. Let me hear your words,” Crowley said distantly. Sometimes she needed to just – process. Think. Actually absorb was Aziraphale was saying.

Aziraphale fell quiet, and even held still, the better to not distract – beyond the natural distractions of lying cuddled in her arms, anyway.

“Okay,” Crowley said after a bit. “Okay, whew, that was a lot. I'm sorry.”

“For what? You didn't do anything wrong, and you don't have to apologize for _listening_ to me,” Aziraphale reminded her. “May I kiss you, though, please?”

“I'd like that,” Crowley said, and smiled when Aziraphale hauled her a little more upright, and gave her a very nice kiss.

They were both smiling then, and Crowley gave her a little peck on the lips to make her giggle. “Angel-baby, can I ask you about still being afraid?”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said. “It's...well, it's instinct at this point.” She sighed. “It's not fun. But I'm never afraid of you or Chae or people I know very well.”

Crowley didn't bother to hide her relief. Aziraphale was never afraid of her. She'd managed  _one_ thing in the last not-quite-two-years. 

Well, all right. More than one. But this was the most important thing, even more important than that time she gave Aziraphale a half-dozen cascading orgasms and her legs were numb for a few hours and she smiled for  _days_ .

“And I know there's truly no reason to fear – well, the rest of your family,” Aziraphale admitted. “I _know_ it doesn't make sense. But sometimes it's still there, when I laugh too loud, or I meet someone new and I'm limping badly that day. Or when I make errors, mix up names and such. It doesn't last.”

Crowley nodded. “You were taught so deep and so hard. It's all right, angel, you just need time to heal and un-learn all that.” She smiled softly. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Oh – you!” Aziraphale hugged her tightly. “Keep being you. Really, really, truly, that's all I need.”

“A princess so silly you can't possibly be afraid of her?”

“Well, yes,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley laughed, delighted at her honesty. “Not silly, exactly, although you're very silly and I love that about you,” she continued. “But a princess so...normal and natural, that I can't be afraid. Of course I love you dearly, and you're my best friend, but you're...” She paused and thought. “I almost want you to meet someone from Heaven's Court, so you can see how unlike them you are. It's hard to put into words, but even the way you stand and move and speak.” Aziraphale laughed. “It's so funny – I can't even point to anything. They were all corseted from tip to toe too, and when you wear the dresses I designed for you, you _ought_ to look like them. But you never do, my beauty.”

“Good,” Crowley said. “I never want to.” She was happily snuggled close again, content that Aziraphale wasn't secretly living her life in terror. Of _course_ she was still afraid sometimes; she'd only been with people who loved her for a few months, really. “Are you going to your dressmaker's soon, by the way?”

“Oh yes, when we get back. I have a few gowns that need to be let out, and one or two ideas for new ones. Do you want to come with?”

Crowley nodded. “I want a dress like this,” she said, tracing her fingertip along the neckline and, not accidentally, over the soft blush of Aziraphale's nipple. She tugged the gauzy fabric down and the little peaked thing popped out, much to Crowley's delight as she immediately sealed her mouth over it in an open kiss, swirling her tongue around until it grew hard in her mouth. She kissed just above it, the soft of Aziraphale's breast, her mouth still open and wet, and carefully settled the neckline back in place. “For next summer.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale breathed. “I'd like that _very_ much.” She offered Crowley another sip of wine, and they kissed, long and sweet, groaning a little as their bodies came together, moving sweetly in tandem. Conversation over – now it was time for kissing and heavy wine and more kissing.


	2. Chapter 2

They had a beautiful evening together, and if they were a little more tender with each other, a little more loving, it was to be expected, really. They were sweet and easy all through breakfast, until it was time to leave.

“Urgh,” Crowley said, looking at Bentley.

“You big baby,” Aziraphale said cheerfully. She had been tender and careful and understanding with Crowley's legitimate nervousness around horses, until Chae pointed out that Crowley did better when you essentially poked her with a stick and made her do a thing. “You've spent days on him.”

“Hunting for you doesn't count, I was a wreck,” Crowley said, in expectation of a tender hug and a little cuddle.

Instead, Aziraphale tossed her a full canteen. “Put that in your saddlebag and stop being dramatic. You've also gone on long rides for fun. I was  _right there_ for half of them, you dingus.”

Crowley stuck her tongue out, but also did as she was told. They'd decided not to camp this time, considering there were plenty of villages along the way, and of course a few nights in Gaia to look forward to. But, of course, they still needed to bring clothes and gifts and the like. Few enough that they could get by without more animals, but enough that both Aster and Bentley were pretty well laden.

Aziraphale was tightening a few last straps and chatting with one of the younger boys about which road was least muddy, while Crowley found a mounting block and hoicked herself up onto the saddle with her usual lack of grace. At least she'd got a riding corset made, so that felt a little better. And all right, fine, it was a beautiful autumn day, all crisp air and bright sunlight to see them on their way.

Finally Aziraphale swung up, graceful as could be, and they headed out, not to return for a good two weeks. As soon as they'd left the castle gates, she laughed and tilted her head back, basking in the sunlight. “Freedom!”

Crowley couldn't help but smile, watching her. Well she wasn't a  _monster_ . “Go run ahead, you know you want to,” she said, and Aziraphale turned to grin at her.

“Are you sure?” 

“Go, get it out of your system. We'll catch up,” Crowley promised, and held out a hand. “I love you, beautiful.”

Aziraphale reached back and squeezed. “I'll meet you at the crossroads, with the oak tree?”

“Deal,” Crowley said, and watched her and Aster race ahead. The path they were on twined through farms and fields and soft rolling hills, and Aziraphale was soon out of sight.

“Good, you don't want to go fast either,” Crowley told her horse. She even gave Bentley's neck a little pat, and was gratified when he failed entirely to make some strange, mildly disturbing noise. At least they understood each other: he kept walking at his steady pace, and Crowley tried to at least sort of enjoy the day. Even if she did have to be on a horse.

It took her a good half-hour to catch up to Aziraphale at the promised crossroads; of course her angel was still in the saddle and cheerfully munching on an apple when Crowley got there. “Here,” she said, tossing her another. “They're absolutely scrummy.”

Crowley agreed after her first crisp bite, and the two of them rode on, slow while they ate but then picking up pace, Aziraphale coaching Crowley through a bit of trotting.

“You have it, love, you really do,” she assured her. “We'll keep practicing.” She smiled and held out her hand. “And we'll take a good long break for lunch, so your legs don't get sore.”

Crowley pretended to grump about all of this, of course – she had a  _reputation_ to maintain – but riding Bentley was almost comfortable, and she was less nervous every time he did something unexpected. Which didn't stop her from freezing in place when a fly bit Aster and she reared up, but Aziraphale kept her seat easily, and all was well just moments later.

They lunched in a pretty little copse of trees, bright blue sky filtering through the leaves, soft ground to sit on while they munched on good bread and cheese and sausage.

“We're going for a little walk after we eat,” Aziraphale decided. “It's still a few hours 'til the inn Asha recommended, and I don't want you to get stiff.”

“You've never complained about that before, angel,” Crowley said, wriggling her eyebrows. She felt in fine form – she had managed to stay on the horse and not die, and it was a beautiful day. And they'd soon get to spend two nights with their friend, returning to the lovely little castle they'd visited in the spring. As much as she and Asha both hated the cold, it might be the last time they'd see her before the next spring; best to get in as much time as possible.

“I do not wish to listen to you bitch and moan all night,” Aziraphale said primly. “There, is that better?”

“More honest,” Crowley agreed, and took a generous bite of bread and cheese, feeling absolutely delicious about being on the road and travelling. She was nervous as fuck about meeting Madame, but that could be faced when the time came. Right now was eating, then apparently her fussy-angel-mandated walk, and after a few more hours best not thought of, a good dinner and a better bed.

And that was about how it worked out. She and Aziraphale stretched their legs, walking over the swell of a soft hill and just standing there, stealing a few kisses as they gazed over golden fields. Aziraphale wrapped her arms about Crowley's waist and gave her a little squeeze. “It's funny sometimes, to think of it. This land is yours – it's your kingdom.”

“Yes and no,” Crowley said. “I live here, this is my home. It's in my bloodline. But I'm not...I don't have any claim to any land. I was disowned by my family, and lost Annwn. I was given a home and love and a family, but Terra isn't mine. Or rather, it is, but only in the way it's yours, too.”

“It's the place we both love best, and where we live,” Aziraphale said softly. “I'm sorry. Are you sad? To have no kingdom.”

“No,” Crowley said immediately. “It was hard to lose Annwn, at first. I _had_ been raised to be a king someday.” She smiled softly. “But I would never have been happy like that.”

“No, darling,” Aziraphale agreed.

“What if it had been different for you?” Crowley asked. “Would you be a farmwife now, without the war?”

“No,” Azirpahale said, confident and sure. “I would have found a way to become a Maestra Librarian. This is who I am and who I was fated to be.” They turned and started to walk back to their horses. “I do have claim to land, though.”

“Oh? Your parents' farm, I suppose?” Crowley asked.

“No, love. They were tenant farmers.” Aziraphale smiled at her, sweet and soft. “I have the same claim you do. Six feet of earth, in Terra's royal cemetery. When I die, I'll lie under our land forever.”

“Hope you don't mind sharing that,” Crowley said softly. “I don't want to be apart from you, even after--”

Aziraphale nodded, the words too strong to speak, and she paused to pull Crowley into a tight hug. “Never alone,” she whispered. “I'll be your wife, even after death. Everyone who learns the royal family will learn how beloved you are.”

“And you,” Crowley said, and laughed, and didn't let go. “Harvest season's getting to us.”

Aziraphale chuckled softly, and hugged her tighter for a moment, before finally easing so they could walk again. “Maybe it is. But I like knowing that – well. When this is all over, history will remember  _us_ .”

“Me too,” Crowley said softly, and kissed the fine gilt braids pinned up and out of the way, her beautiful wife's gorgeous hair. It would take forever for Aziraphale to go grey, her hair was already so pale. Meanwhile, _she_ was already finding silver strands in her brush some mornings. What a beautiful thing it was, to grow old with her beloved.

They were still young enough now, though, and the walk had helped so that Crowley wasn't  _too_ like a sack of flour when Aziraphale helped her up into the saddle, and then mounted Aster herself, swinging up with a whirl of soft grey riding costume and a happy smile.

They reached the inn in late afternoon. It was a lovely old building, well-recommended to them. They had agreed that Aziraphale would handle everything; better that no one clocked any of Crowley's strange eyes, that she'd been born into a man's body, or that she was actually a royal. Any or all of them could lead to uncomfortable conversations at best, and Aziraphale was the more seasoned traveller of the two of them anyway.

So Crowley took their overnight bags, Aziraphale's quiet shadow, until they were shown to their room. She looked around carefully, and it was small but clean and even had rather a pretty view out over a small orchard of fruit trees. The young woman who showed them to their room was clearly the inn-keeper's daughter, sharing so many of his features, and she was cheerful and kind without being deferential.

“I'll bring up a pan of hot water so that you can bathe,” she said. “Will you take dinner here or in the common room?”

Aziraphale looked to Crowley, who smiled – they'd learned to silently communicate even when Crowley's eyes were hidden. It  _did_ help that they were both tired from the first day on the road, and wanted only to be with each other, and then asleep.

“Here, please,” Aziraphale said politely. “Two hours after we've bathed, I think. Would you be able to bring up something light to drink with the bath, please? Lemonade, or something of the sort.”

“Of course,” the young woman said cheerfully. “Is there anything else you'll be needing?”

“No, thank you dear.” Aziraphale smiled and pressed a few coins into her palm. “It will be good to clean off the dust of the road.”

“Yes, Maestra.” The young woman was polite and kind, but didn't bow or curtsey, much to Crowley's pleasure. She still didn't know how to respond to such things. Sure, it had been okay when Aziraphale had thrown herself onto the floor and Crowley had immediately fallen in love and sworn to protect her, but that was a one-time kind of thing.

The door closed behind her, and they both exhaled, and laughed at themselves. Crowley gathered Aziraphale into a hug, solely because she could, and they simply held one another for a moment.

“Thank you,” Crowley said. “I can take a few coming back, if you like. Arranging for things and suchlike.”

“If you wish. I'm used to it – though it's nice not travelling alone,” Aziraphale admitted. She kissed Crowley's cheek, and started to disrobe, at least somewhat. Her heavy travelling-gown with the split skirt came off and was hung up to air until tomorrow, and she was left in boots, tight breeches, and a rather nice blouse.

Crowley, predictably, whistled.

“I am changing my mind about travelling alone,” Aziraphale said dryly, but she came over to where Crowley had sat by the window, and let her feel up Aziraphale's thighs. “You're ridiculous.”

“You're _hot_ ,” Crowley said. “Gosh.” She kissed Aziraphale's belly, and rested her cheek against the soft linen. “Besides, we've travelled before. Along this route, even.”

Aziraphale chuckled softly. “True. But it feels different, going farther. Good different,” she clarified, and petted Crowley's hair. “You know, I get invited to a big gathering of Librarians every few years – someone puts together a research group, or whatever. Partners are always welcome. Would you want to come along? You'd have a built-in set of friends with everyone else's plus-one, and there's plenty of time for adventures and such.”

“Of course, that sounds wonderful,” Crowley agreed easily. It all sounded good for making trouble and finding fun things to do – and making sure her angel ate and slept enough, and was generally taken care of.

A great pan of hot water arrived soon after that, along with towels and other necessary things to allow a nice sponge bath, at least. Aziraphale cheerfully thanked the servants who brought it, and just as cheerfully locked the door after them, making quite sure they wouldn't be disturbed.

She finished shedding her clothes, while Crowley got out of skirt, shirt, and breeches in record time. The breeches were necessary for riding, but she  _hated_ wearing them, and already felt a bit better in just her skin. A naked Aziraphale standing in a wide, shallow pan and pouring the first cupful of hot water over herself went a long way towards assuring her comfort as well, mind.

Aziraphale laughed when she saw Crowley naked, and so obviously savoured looking at her that Crowley just had to preen a little. “You're going to freeze to death!”

“Hardly,” Crowley said, pretty thoroughly checking Aziraphale out. “Got you to keep me warm.”

“Oh _honestly_ ,” Aziraphale sighed, and started to wash herself down. It wasn't intentionally sexy, and they were both a little tired from travelling, but Crowley would be _dead_ before she didn't enjoy watching Aziraphale scrub her soft, rosy skin down, the way her hands skimmed over flesh made slick with soap. The soft curves of her breasts, heavy, the round of her belly and her hips, the asymmetrical slash of the scar across her belly and her thigh. Crowley loved it all, and she loved to watch Aziraphale touch herself, scrub herself down.

Without thinking too much about it, she wrapped her hand around her cock, stroking lightly, no real intent in mind other than enjoying the sight before her.

Aziraphale saw what she was doing, of course, and smiled indulgently, because Crowley was nothing if not spoiled  _rotten_ . She reached for another cup of water, slow and graceful. Aziraphale tilted her head back and gasped a little as hot water cascaded down her, rinsing the soap away and leaving her body gleaming and clean. She reached between her legs and rubbed a little, making a soft, happy noise, and stepped onto a soft rug. “Your turn,” she said. “Before the water goes cold, love.”

Crowley got up and pulled her wet girl into a hug and a long, lingering kiss, her cock pressing between them, the feel of Aziraphale's body doing nothing to get it to go down.   
“And you accuse me of being eternally horny,” Aziraphale teased.

“This is all your fault,” Crowley told her, and accepted the pinch to her behind with a mock cry of pain and a deeply offended look. 

She really  _didn't_ fancy a cold bath, so emptied Aziraphale's used water and copied what she had done – fresh water, soap, fresh water rinse – all while pretending to not notice Aziraphale drying herself off, particularly careful between her legs apparently. She pulled on her stockings, carefully tying the garters at mid-thigh before settling down with a glass of the promised lemonade. 

“Someday you're going to get a fetish and I'm never going to let you forget it,” Crowley grumbled, while Aziraphale laughed, because she was terrible.

“Being a pillow princess isn't enough for you?” she asked, playing idly with one of her nipples. 

“Well, point,” Crowley acknowledged, stealing the last of the water to rinse herself off a little more thoroughly. The hot water felt wonderful, especially on her sore backside. And it meant she was pretty well soaked when she draped herself in Aziraphale's lap for some long, sweet kisses.

“You are unbearable,” Aziraphale informed her, and kissed the tip of her nose. “I love you. Serious question, though – how do you feel?” Her forearm was tucked up under Crowley's bottom – such as it was – holding her close. “You did a lot of riding today.”

“Sore, but not painfully so,” Crowley said. “I'm okay, angel. Promise.”

“Good girl.” Aziraphale gave her a little squeeze. “I love you. I know riding isn't a joy for you, and I just want you know, well. I tease, but I'm proud of you too. I really am. You're doing something hard.”

“Aw, it's not hard,” Crowley protested. “Everyone in the world manages just fine.”

“But you're not everyone,” Aziraphale said. “You're you.” 

Crowley made a grumpy sound and hid her face in Aziraphale's shoulder, just for the moment. Well, more than the moment; she was being cuddled and loved and she wasn't  _afraid_ of horses anymore, not exactly. She still remembered being thrown, and the awful pain as her arm broke, but it was distant. The memory of Aziraphale being thrown, and hurt, was far too recent. But that was fading too, in the warm memories that followed it, the days when Crowley was given free rein to treat Aziraphale like the treasure she was. She trusted Bentley and Aster – well enough, anyway – and that was good enough.

The cuddles helped too, mind. She'd have to make sure there were plenty of those.

“What about you?” she asked, when they'd kissed a few more times, naked bodies drying together. She slipped a few fingers between Aziraphale's thighs, just a casual little caress, lazy with pleasure.

“Oh, that feels lovely,” Aziraphale sighed. “I'm wonderful, darling. Not a bit of pain in my scar, and you know I'm well used to riding all day.” She gave Crowley an extra kiss, and patted her hip. “Up, beautiful girl. We should dress, and I'll set our bath stuff outside of the door.”

The rest of their evening was sweet and casual. A good dinner, with surprisingly good wine, a few hours for Aziraphale to work at some embroidery and Crowley at her knitting, until they were both yawning. And then bed, and falling asleep entwined together, sharing the same pillow.

Aziraphale slept in a little the next morning, and Crowley let her – not only for the privacy in taking care of her facial hair, but because there were a few taps of raindrops on the window, and the sky hung low and grey.

“Hi, baby,” she said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing Aziraphale's shoulder. “Have a little coffee, and we can decide if we need to wait here longer.”

“We don't,” Aziraphale said, and yawned, and sat up. “My hip's fine, I promise. Good enough to ride a few hours, anyway.” She smiled. “I want to see Asha, and sleep in the Library there.”

“You and your books,” Crowley teased gently, and kissed her. “I love you. Take breakfast in bed at least?”

“Well, if it'll make you happy.” Aziraphale gave a little stretch and pulled Crowley into her arms for a proper good-morning kiss. “Mmm, my pretty girl.” Another peck, and she finally let her go, accepting the cup of coffee and the breakfast that soon followed.

She was limping on the way down to the stables, but mounted up easily enough, and Crowley comforted herself with the thought of a hot bath and a soft bed in a few hours. Asha's Library had a half-dozen little guest-rooms built into it, and it was cozy and wonderful to stay there – and the beds were big enough that all three of them could lounge on one if need be, cuddling their angel-girl, or they could take over a little sitting area if Aziraphale felt well enough.

They set a good, steady pace, and Aziraphale was cheerful, so Crowley didn't worry too much, even as little rainstorms came and went. The trail was harder and rougher here, and the countryside more wild, cutting through un-maintained forests. It slowed them down, but the horses were sensible and kept their heads, and Crowley even almost relaxed a few times, and enjoyed the wildness around them, colourful and glorious in the autumn.

They mostly had to ride nose-to-tail, but there was a little meadow where Crowley felt confident enough to draw Bentley up beside Aster, and reach out for Aziraphale's hand.

“Sweetheart.” Aziraphale smiled at her. “Do you want to get down and stretch a bit?”

Crowley shook her head. “D'you?”

“Not until I'm getting down and straight into a hot bath,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley laughed and squeezed her hand. 

“Not much farther, poor girl.”

“Poor girl my arse. I'm the luckiest lady in the world.” Aziraphale's smile softened. “Crowley, I'm travelling with my best friend and my beloved. We're going to see one of my oldest friends, who you love as much as I do. Then I get to show you where I was born, the land that raised me, and the woman who saved me. She already loves you and I know you're nervous, but it's all right. I get to share all the most wonderful parts of my life with you. How can I not be happy?”

“Angel...” Crowley blinked hard, and cleared her throat. “I wish I could give you the same in return,” she said. “Take you to Annwn, let my parents dote on you and be furious they didn't grab you up for their own court.” Her smile wobbled, just a little. “But all I have is me. And how much I love you.” She blushed. “And love Asha, and I know I'll adore Madame. I just hope I'm...good enough for you. In her eyes.”

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale leaned at a terrifying angle, but she caught Crowley up in a warm embrace. “I love you. You are absolutely good enough. Beyond good enough. I wish for your sake you could go home and that your parents had the good sense to love you, but I don't _need_ any of that.” She smiled softly. “You'll never meet my parents either. We can be sad about that together, and it'll be...bearable. Because we're _together_. All I ever need is you, dear heart.”

“Good thing you got me.” Crowley hugged her tightly, and gave her a gentle little shove to sit better on her saddle. 

They rode for a bit, Aziraphale once again moving to lead the way. It was in a grove of hawthorns, brilliant with berries, that Crowley ventured to ask the question rattling around in her brain. “Aziraphale?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Do your parents have a grave we can visit?” A horrible thing to say, but she wanted to _know_.

“No, love. Not exactly.” She turned around to smile, show that the question was all right. All of Crowley's questions were always all right. “There were, ah. No remains, exactly. But there is a memorial, to everyone who died in the village. We can go there, if you want – it's a bit of a ride, but we can manage it in a long day. And you can see exactly where I grew up.”

“I'd like that very much,” Crowley said. “I'd like to leave something there. To say thank you, for making _you_. To promise them I'll always be there for you, always love you.”

“There's a place for offerings,” Aziraphale said. “We'll go, love. I'd like to visit too.” She turned around once more and smiled at Crowley. “Maybe we can ride Bentley together?”

“I'd like that a lot,” Crowley said softly. Giant beast that he was, he could carry them both if they travelled light. And it meant hours in the saddle with Aziraphale cuddled up to her back. Her angel could get as much touch and care and love as she needed. No matter her calm mien, it would be a hard day. 

They fell quiet, picking over a small mountain, the trail barely there for a few miles, but then the road widened out, and smoothed, and it was an easy, fast run into the heart of Gaia, and the castle, and their friend.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick heads-up: in this chapter, Aziraphale and Crowley discuss their decision to not have children, and regrets and feelings and general...everything around that.

They rode into the courtyard together, horses side-by-side, and there was Asha, grinning and waving and already running over before they'd even dismounted. She had a baby on one hip and that was  _not_ why Crowley was so excited she basically fell out of the saddle and into Asha's free arm. 

“We've been riding a lot, my legs don't like it!” she protested, as Asha laughed hard, hugging her in welcome.

“Oh, and here I thought you wanted a cuddle,” she teased, so Crowley kissed her _very dramatically_ hello to show her a thing or two, before making way for Aziraphale to pull Asha into a long, loving hug, and kiss her in turn.

“I love you. Welcome,” Asha said warmly, arm still around Aziraphale's waist.

“We love you too.” Aziraphale rested her head on Asha's shoulder, snuggling close to her friend. “And who's this little bean?”

Asha laughed, turning so they could see the little mite better. “Her name is Ysolde. She's the queen's cousin's new baby – her mum's one of Queen Inge's ladies-in-waiting, and she has to do royal things together, so I said we could take care of Ysolde for a few hours.” She winked at Crowley. “Figured you two wouldn't mind.”

“Asha, you let me into one of those baths, and you can do whatever you want,” Aziraphale sighed. 

“Oh, gosh, yes, the weather's awful,” Asha said. “Let's get you two inside, and Crowley can have baby time and you can soak and ease your poor hip. No, don't worry about the horses, or your things, Princess, someone will run up with them.” She was smiling widely, and let go Aziraphale for a moment to hug Crowley again, refusing to neglect her or love her any the less. 

So it was a kind of affectionate whirlwind made it into the castle up to the great Library, larger than Terra's (but, Crowley thought, maybe not so lovely). The back wall was studded with rooms two levels high; they'd stayed here in the spring when Elsie visited, and Crowley was pleased to learn they'd have their old room back; up on the second level, there was a lovely view of a river, and a big soft bed, and a run of fascinating books about science just outside their door. It was a pity they couldn't stay more than two nights; but perhaps longer on the way back, if they weren't needed in Terra.

And there was a great, glorious, warm, steamy bathing room on the ground floor of the Library itself, kept toasty by a roaring fire that heated great kettles of water. Asha had clearly prepared for their arrival, and had a hot bath made up in moments. Crowley and Asha collectively bossed Aziraphale straight in there, while Crowley stripped off her skirt and jacket to take hold of Ysolde while Asha and Aziraphale got her dusty travelling clothes off, sighing in the warmth.

“You poor duck,” Asha said, and helped her into the tub, sinking down into the hot water. “Oh, sweetheart. Stay in there as long as you want, Crowley and I'll keep you company. They'd taken off their shoes at the entrance, and Crowley had to admit it was nice to wiggle her bare toes and hold the baby. She didn't even mind being in just blouse and breeches. Too much.

“I should protest that you're both fussing too much, but honestly you're not. Oh, this is heaven,” Aziraphale sighed, stretching in the hot water. “Crowley, lovey, you need to bathe too at some point. Your legs _are_ all stiff, even though we all know you just wanted to feel Asha up and play with the babe.”

“Uh huh,” Crowley said, dandling Ysolde on her knee. “Who's a good little demon? Yes, you are!” She made a face and the baby did the scrunchy-faced thing and shrieked, filling Crowley's heart with quiet joy. “Yes you are,” she said softly, bouncing her gently. She had ditched the dark glasses too – they fogged up something awful in the steam – but this little mite didn't mind, not one bit.

Asha and Aziraphale exchanged smiles, utterly enamoured by Crowley with a baby.

“Was it a good ride at least?” Asha asked quietly, while Aziraphale set to scrubbing off the dirt of the road, in between soaking in the hot, healing waters.

“Wonderful – Gaia's so beautiful in autumn, just like you said. Be a love and let my hair down? Thank you.” Aziraphale smiled, head tilted back as Asha's clever fingers freed her braids, and then shook them loose. She ducked under the water and came up smiling, warm and clean, or at least on her way to clean. 

“Let me wash your hair, you rest a bit,” Asha said, moving to sit on the edge of the tub, just behind where Aziraphale sat. “It's really special here – I do hope you can stay on your way back. How was Terra's harvest season, lovey?”

“Oh, busy as usual, but good...” Aziraphale gave her the rundown on the good and bad, the kind of mix of gossip and true news that characterized the lot of Librarians.

Crowley played with Ysolde in the warm, steamy room, listening to the soft voices of her beloved and her friend, and her heart sang with the family she'd assembled, down to this brand-new little soul, who had grown bored of playing and laughing on her lap and was settling in for a peaceful little nap in her arms. Crowley snuggled her closer, touching her tiny button nose and marvelling over the tracery of veins in her eyelids, her infinitesimal eyelashes, and the tiniest dent imaginable on her upper lip.

“There we go,” she whispered. “You're safe and sound and loved. Every blessing in the world on you, baby Ysolde. May you always be as loved as I am right now.” This last barely breathed out; if the other two heard there would be _feelings_ and _hugs_ and she was so full up just now. Better to whisper her blessing and hold the precious little girl while her angel bathed and caught up on the news of the world outside of Terra.

Crowley was fully drunk on baby smell and baby cuddles when Asha helped Aziraphale out of the bath, wrapping her in a huge towel.

Asha laughed when Crowley looked up and blinked, coming back to earth after being lost in the shape of Ysolde's tiny, perfect ears, and the way she smacked her lips a little when she slept.

Aziraphale just smiled softly, though, and sat down next to Crowley, wrapping her arms around her so they both held the little one. “Hello, you,” she said, and kissed Crowley's neck. “Do you want to bathe, love? We'll take her for a moment, while I go get dressed.”

Understanding and privacy in one fell swoop – Crowley was grateful for it. And it wasn't like Asha didn't know she had a cock, and a flat chest, but still...her body was for  _Aziraphale_ , on top of her shyness when it came to being nude around pretty much anyone who wasn't Aziraphale, anyway. Even Chae hadn't seen her bare-assed in years.

“Please. I'm all gritty.” Another minute to cuddle her together, and Crowley handed her over. She met Asha's gaze for a moment and blushed, smiling at the floor. “Sorry, I just...”

“Nothing at all to apologize for,” Asha said gently, taking her hands and squeezing them. “Welcome, dear heart. Is there anything you want? You must be tired from riding.”

Crowley squeezed back. “Just a bath and a clean dress, and I'll be good as new.” She hesitated. “Thank you. For understanding.”

“No thanks needed.” Asha pulled her up and into a hug. “We'll have a cup of tea waiting for you, Crowley-love. And more baby cuddles.”

“I'm doing pretty good,” Crowley mumbled, basking in the love and understanding and her new, wonderful friend. Well, maybe not so new anymore; it was coming up on a year since Asha had first visited.

She got kisses from both her girls, a tub drained and already re-filling and, she had to admit, welcome privacy and peace as the chattering, laughing Librarians took the back staircase to Crowley and Aziraphale's room.

She lingered a little in the bath, not quite dozing but definitely soft and easy. For many reasons, she reckoned: to give Aziraphale and Asha time with just the two of them, to soothe her sore muscles, and simply to rest. To land, and be comfortable in a place not her own beloved castle. She always liked to take a little time to be alone in a new place, to see how she fit within in, to rest and breathe in new smells until they were comfortable. And it wasn't like Gaia was brand-new; she'd soaked in this very tub only a few months ago, listening to the laughter of Aziraphale and her friends just outside the door, before getting up the courage to join them. Predictably, a few hours later, they were all in Elsie's room and Crowley was being cuddled to within an inch of her life by all three women, adored and doted on, touched by how much Elsie instantly liked her. She was always going to be shy, meeting Aziraphale's people, she reckoned. Well, so be it.

When the ache in her body had faded and she was yearning more for a cup of tea and new-baby smell than for a little peace and quiet, Crowley got out of the bath, wrapped herself and her hair in voluminous towels, and carefully made her way up to the little bedroom.

It was empty – good, Aziraphale must have been comfortable enough to go settle by the fire. Poor girl; her old injury always gave her trouble in wet weather, but whether the pain was greater or lesser seemed more varied. Some days she limped around happy as could be, and others she was quieter, preferring to stay seated, or needing to lean on Crowley's arm, and the why was a bit of a guess.

Well, no matter; they had no plans, and would really only rest and visit with Asha and enjoy a respite before continuing their journey.

Crowley quickly dressed in warm clothes; a gown that Aziraphale had designed and embroidered for her, rich russet wool with golden patterns picked out on the sleeves and bodice. Quietly, she let herself out of their little bedroom and onto the gallery that made up the second level of the library, and peered over the railing to the great open space below.

The stacks were all at the far end of the library, away from the living quarters and the comfortable sofas and chairs scattered by a vast fireplace. That was just below, and Crowley could see the two of them talking about something, Aziraphale topping up their tea one-handed while she cradled Ysolde to her side.

Crowley had to smile – Aziraphale wasn't baby-mad the way she was, but she liked them well enough, and it lit something warm and tender to see her wife holding a little one. Not theirs, not ever, and that was fine. But it was such a sweet sight, and Crowley knew for a fact that Aziraphale was absolutely delicious to cuddle with, and reckoned it must be the same for a baby.

She made her way down and settled by Aziraphale on the sofa, accepting a cup of hot tea gratefully and drinking deep. “Oh, heaven. Asha, you're a gem of a hostess, I hope you know.”

“I do, thank you,” she teased, and winked at Crowley. “There now, rest a bit, I know you're not used to being on a horse, and your Bentley is ridiculously huge. Do you want anything else, dear?”

Crowley shook her head, slipping an arm around Aziraphale and the baby. “I'm happy as can be, Asha, truly. Thank you.” She smiled and kissed her girl's temple. “How're you, dove?”

“Well enough. The bath helped. I'm not in much pain,” Aziraphale promised, snuggling into Crowley's side. “Drink your tea, Ysolde missed you.”

“She has no object permanence, she literally can't,” Crowley said to be a shit, but she took a healthy slug, savoured the warmth going through her chest, and set her cup down to take Ysolde firmly in her arms – pausing, of course, to blow a raspberry on her tummy. Okay, two. But she was so _cute_ when she giggled.

Crowley played with the baby and cuddled her, and changed her diaper when it needed it,  _and_ was a good guest and friend, chatting with Asha, catching up on gossip and plans for weaving and other good things like that, all with an endless stream of tea and biscuits. Eventually a nursemaid came to retrieve the baby, and Crowley kissed her three times, but soon found her arms full of Aziraphale, so that was all right.

They went up to bed not very long after supper, begging off after a long day.

“Sleep as late as you like,” Asha said, hugging them both. “Breakfast can be brought up whenever.”

“You darling.” Aziraphale kissed her cheek. “See you in the morning.”

Crowley got her own peck in, and followed Aziraphale up to bed. She was limping heavily, but moved quickly enough; no pain, then, or not enough to worry over. A few lamps had their bedroom glowing comfortingly, and they changed together in peaceful quiet before crawling into bed, the room soon lit only by a fire in the grate.

“You're so sweet, with Ysolde,” Aziraphale said, opening her arms up. She and Crowley settled in a loose embrace, facing one another. 

“You are too,” Crowley said, and kissed the little turn-up at the end of her nose. “You'd have made a good mum.”

Aziraphale giggled softly. “I really wouldn't. I wish, though...” She blushed. “Well. It's silly, but.”

Crowley nodded, patient. Aziraphale always spilled her heart, it just took a little bit, sometimes.

“I wish I really did want to be a parent,” Aziraphale said. “We could, you know. We could make a baby together.” She moved one hand down to press low on her belly. “I'm still able to get pregnant.”

“A thing I remember a great deal,” Crowley said dryly, and put her hand over Aziraphale's. “Baby, I love you. I love the family we have now. If something happened and you did get pregnant, I'd love our child. I would also,” she said ruefully, “be _completely unbearable_ for the extent of your pregnancy.”

Aziraphale giggled. “Well, I didn't want to  _say_ ...”

“You've threatened to drop me down a well, and that was just with a little sprained ankle,” Crowley said. “Even I know if you got pregnant now, it could be more dangerous than when you were younger. And we don't know what effect this had,” she added gently, tracing the great scar across Aziraphale's belly. It made a funny little fold there, that Aziraphale didn't much like and Crowley kissed and licked every chance she got. “And that's all on top of – well, you _don't_ want a baby, and that's a pretty important part.”

“But you love children,” Aziraphale said. “I'm not...oh, it's hard to explain. I don't want to get pregnant, and I don't want to have a child, or children. But seeing you...a part of me _wants_ to want that.”

“Well, that's a thing,” Crowley said thoughtfully. “But I rather think that's a _you_ thing. I love you with all my heart. I never expected to have children; I got my mourning in decades ago. I'm deeply, wonderfully happy without littles of my own. I promise.”

“I believe you.” Aziraphale laughed, and hugged her. “Maybe I'm a tiny bit broody. Ysolde was such a sweetheart, far better than any baby we'd have together.”

“Oh my God, can you imagine what a little monster they'd be?” Crowley breathed, and they burst into giggles. “We'd have the most beautiful and most unbearable child ever.”

“Absolutely,” Aziraphale said, in between soft laughter. “Did you ever think of names, darling? Just for fun, like.”

“Chae for a boy,” Crowley said immediately. “It'd drive him bonkers. I don't know for a girl. You have the prettiest name ever. Zira?”

Aziraphale shook her head. “Pretty, but confusing.” She smiled shyly. “My mother's name was Deo.”

“Oh, that's _beautiful_ ,” Crowley breathed. “No, I mean it, what a beautiful name, Aziraphale. _Deo_.” She shook her head. “Sorry, I just. You must have had the loveliest family.” 

Aziraphale smiled. “They were. Mum looked like me – a lot like me, actually. Da was light-eyed and -haired too, but he ran thin, and I don't have much of him about me, not looks-wise, I mean. His name was Primum.”

“Primum and Deo and Aziraphale,” Crowley said, tasting the syllables. “My beloved girl.” She gathered Aziraphale into a close embrace for a moment, absorbing the stories of the people she could never meet. “ _Their_ beloved girl.”

Aziraphale giggled softly. “I was – I was very spoilt, I think, for all I worked as hard as any boy would have been expected to.” She snuggled close, tracing the embroidery on the front of Crowley's nightgown. “I don't know where they got my name from. Maybe they made it up, I've never met another Aziraphale.”

Crowley blinked, struck. “It's not very far from my name. My first name, I mean. Raphael, Aziraphale,” she said, pronouncing it so they very nearly rhymed. “Huh.”

“Good lord, you're right,” Aziraphale said, blinking in surprise. “I wonder if they were trying for a feminine version...”

Crowley laughed. “What a coincidence, if so! I love it.” She smooched Aziraphale's forehead. “It's a bit of a reach, though.”

“Mmm, fair.” Aziraphale yawned, and settled with her head on Crowley's shoulder. “Why _did_ you name yourself Crowley? I've never asked. I'm sorry, is that rude? Is asking now rude?”

Crowley laughed. “In reverse order – no, I don't think so, and I just liked it. I had an uncle who called me Crawly when I was little. I was very late to learn to walk. There wasn't anything wrong with my legs or anything like that, I just apparently was fine with crawling and saw no need to upgrade for quite a long time.”

Aziraphale giggled. “Stubborn little girl,” she said, and got a squeeze so tight it almost hurt.

“So stubborn I refused to be a boy,” Crowley agreed, and they both giggled. “'Crawly' was a little...squirm-y. But I liked Crowley. I like the sound of it. It feels right,” she admitted. “Sorry, I don't know how to explain it.”

“It _does_ feel right,” Aziraphale said. “You're a very Crowley kind of person, I think.” She yawned yet again, and Crowley kissed her forehead.

“I think so too. Shh, sleep, angel. You can ask more questions in the morning.”

“I'll ask whenever I like,” Aziraphale said, but her eyes were mostly closed and she was heavy in Crowley's arms and, given five minutes of quiet, she was soon fast asleep, a heavy, warm, lovely weight.

Crowley just smiled at her in the firelight, the way her face went slack immediately; Aziraphale fell asleep the way small children did, suddenly and deeply, and it was unbelievably charming every single time.

She drifted off herself – but only after thinking, just for a moment, what it might be like to hold their own little Chae or Deo, to see what perfect child they'd make together. Just for a moment, though; and then she was fast asleep.

Aziraphale did sleep in the next day, at least by her standards, which meant Crowley got just a touch of a lie-in, snuggled under the warm quilts and face buried in Aziraphale's neck after a quick run down to the bathing room and a quicker shave. She got plenty of kisses when Aziraphale did wake up, though, which almost made up for having to get dressed and enter the cruel, cold world full of strong coffee and rather nice pastries.

Asha was good company, and a truly good friend, and Crowley deeply enjoyed the day spent with her, largely in the Library. She had a few things that needed attending to, so Crowley and Aziraphale curled up in their bedroom in the afternoon while Aziraphale read aloud to them from a brilliant volume on the history of mathematics.

A soft tap on the door announced that Asha was done for the day – and if they hadn't guessed it from that, the bottle of wine and cheese plate she was carrying would carry the same message.

“Hullo you,” Aziraphale said. “Get in here with us. Ooooh, that looks scrummy.”

“It is very scrummy, she acknowledged, setting the tray down where they could all reach it and pouring out the wine. She settled next to Crowley an arm around her shoulders, and Crowley felt very smug, getting to be the one who got snuggles first.

“Good day, sweetheart?” she asked, taking a sip of the _very_ nice wine, while Aziraphale made up little cheese-and-cracker nibbles for all of them.

“Lovely. Hope you two weren't bored?”

“In a library? Never,” Aziraphale assured her. “I know we look like uncouth feral creatures, but reading and having a little cuddle was perfect.”

“What she said,” Crowley agreed. “It's nice having a bit of time with you, mind,” she added.

“Suck-up,” Aziraphale observed.

“New favourite,” Asha countered, and gave Crowley a little squeeze. “You're the best little spoon, demon.”

Crowley gloated, and passed Asha a nibble, then stuck her tongue out at Aziraphale, who clutched her heart.

“My wife, stolen away by my first lover!” she cried, and fell back, bosom heaving dramatically.

“Oh my God, we get it, you have great tits,” Asha said.

“Well, she does,” Crowley said, not willing to give ground on this, at least.

“Don't encourage her,” Asha said, giving Crowley a little poke.

Aziraphale laughed and sat up, smiling at them both. “Oh, my sweethearts.” She popped a bit of cheese in her mouth, and sipped her wine, and Crowley was so in love it hurt.

They gossiped and teased one another until supper, then repaired to Asha's room; not much bigger than theirs, but personalized of course, and it was time to switch things up when Aziraphale wound up in Asha's arms, the two of them snuggled together and simply as cute as could be.

Crowley sat nearby, and stroked Asha's hair, loving the texture of her sister locs, different from hers and Aziraphale's hair. “Pretty one. Have you ever met Madame?”

Asha nodded. “Once, briefly – Caelis was on my way home, so I stopped off there with Aziraphale. I would have been, oooh, twenty-four or so?”

Aziraphale nodded. “It was after we broke up, definitely,” she said. “Well, as much as we ever did.”

Asha laughed and kissed her cheek. “True. She's wonderful, Crowley, you're going to love her.”

“More worried about if she'll love me,” Crowley said without thinking, and cringed. She was in for it now.

“She will _absolutely_ love you,” Asha said firmly.  
“I wouldn't ever take you anywhere I didn't know you'd be welcome,” Aziraphale said gently. “Crowley, she practically knows you already, as much as I've written about you.”

“And let me tell you, Aziraphale can go _on_ about you,” Asha said dryly. She also took her pinch like a lady. “I know you're nervous, honey. It's okay. But please trust me – you're a likeable person. I mean, even independent of what you mean to Aziraphale. I loved you first because someone dear to me loves you. But as soon as I met you – I love you for _you_ , honey.”

Crowley was bright red. “Um. Good? Sorry. I just.” She laughed. “I'm not...used to it. Being called likeable.”

“You have friends aplenty in Terra,” Aziraphale pointed out gently. “I know you're a pain and a half, but there's no one there that dislikes you.”

“No, that's all left to my relatives,” Crowley said and holy shit she was going to have to cool it on the wine, this was too much truth for one night.

“Well, you know what I think of _them_ ,” Aziraphale sniffed.

“Same.” Asha sighed, and made a face. “Ugh. Crowley, I should tell you – I know a good amount of what goes on in Annwn, now. I've had a fair bit of correspondence with the Librarian there. His name is Eric, we have a shared research interest in some organic chemistry topics. We never have to speak of it again, but I don't want you to think I'm...keeping anything from you, or anything like that.” She smiled a little. “Also I'm travelling there next month. If you, uh. Want anything?”

Crowley blinked. “No. But you're really kind to ask. Will you, um, meet the royal family?”

“Most likely,” Asha said gently. “Not to spend any time with, but at least on a first visit it's pretty standard to share a meal. I'm going to try to get out of it.”

“What? Why?” Crowley asked.

“I have no desire to break bread with people who don't recognize your existence,” Asha said. “I'd be angry if I never knew you. But I _do_ know you – you're my friend, and I love you. I want nothing to do with the people who hurt you.”

“Oh,” Crowley said in a small voice, and Aziraphale kissed Asha's cheek, sat up, and crawled over to wrap her arms around Crowley. It was like being held by her home. Aziraphale _was_ Terra in a way, after all; she was joined to the Library in ways that Crowley didn't wholly understand. A little like a king was joined to the land, though. And it meant her heart hurt, but also – she was held, and loved. She was _so loved_.

“Thank you,” she said. “For telling me. I'd rather not hear about them, or the kingdom, again. Maybe someday, but please let me ask first.”

Asha nodded. “Of course, Crowley. I'm sorry I had to bring it up, but I didn't want you finding out through the grapevine or anything.”

“I know. Thank you for that too.” Crowley smiled and reached out a hand, and they laced their fingers together. “I love you too, by the way.”

“I know, demoness.” Asha winked, and squeezed her hand, and that was all right.

It was another early night – it would be best if Crowley and Aziraphale were on the road earlyish the next day, as they had a good two and a half days of travel yet, before they reached Madame's little mountain town. There was the usual round of hugs and kisses goodnight, and Asha gently fussing over them both, making sure they had enough pillows and blankets and such.

They had a little cuddle and kiss all to themselves, before wine and friendship and a lovely day meant both Crowley and Aziraphale dropped off into a deep and happy sleep.

Breakfast was quick but hearty, taken by the roaring fire in the Library, and the day ahead promised to be cool and crisp and sweet as an autumn day could be. Crowley was already wrapped up in a woolly shawl, but Aziraphale was in her element in the sunny weather, and chatted and laughed, eyes glowing with joy over the hot breakfast. Servants had quietly packed and moved their things, and their horses stood ready when the last, lingering cup of coffee was drunk.

Asha walked them out to the stables, lingering a little longer. Crowley wrapped her up in a huge hug, taking her moment while Aziraphale cooed and greeted Aster and fussed over her.

“We'll try to stay longer on the way back,” she promised. “Love you. Thank you, by the way. For putting both of us up.”

“You make it sound like I'd leave you out in the cold!” Asha scolded, hugging Crowley back.

“Well, my understanding is you _have_ to offer succour to that one...”

Asha laughed and rocked them a little, and kissed Crowley goodbye. “You're welcome, you absolute fool. I love you, Crowley. It's going to be all right. Madame will adore you.”

Crowley smiled shyly. “I know, I just...”

Asha nodded, and hugged her again. “No matter what happens, you'll wind up back here and we can talk yarns and looms and you'll absolutely get a good, loving welcome. Fair?”

“Fair.” Crowley laughed, kissed her cheek, and finally handed her over to Aziraphale.

The two women just held one another for a long minute, a goodbye until next time. They kissed, and Aziraphale promised to let her know when they were a day out, and kissed again.

And then it was on the road once more in glorious sunshine, Crowley's heart lifting despite being on a horse and riding  _away_ from her friend. But she had her wife with her, and it would be okay. Even if Madame hated her, it would be okay, because someday she'd be back here where she was loved, and then back to Terra, where she was home, all with her Aziraphale.


	4. Chapter 4

They got lucky with beautiful weather all the way to Caelis; cold mornings gave way to midday sun and a comfortable kind of autumn warmth. The trees began to peter out, red and gold and brown forests turning to the prairie as they crossed the border. Crowley became grateful for her language lessons; she wasn't quite fluent, but Aziraphale had taught her a lot, and they sometimes spent whole days speaking only her mother tongue, so Crowley could keep up well enough.

“Madame speaks Court standard,” Aziraphale assured her, after Crowley had stumbled her way through a conversation with an only slightly over-friendly fellow traveller.

“Oh, good.” Crowley smiled down at the table. “I should stop, I'm being the most awful tourist.”

“What? No!” Aziraphale shook her head, and groaned. “Oh, right. That sounded awful. I'm sorry, love. Speak as much Caelish as you want – you're perfectly fine, I promise you. Just – don't worry that you'll feel left out or excluded or anything like that.”

Crowley looked up at her, smile growing a little. “Am I that nervous?”

“Honestly, yes. It's okay, demoness. But please trust me that if I thought Madame wouldn't like you, I wouldn't have brought you?” Aziraphale asked gently.

“I'm getting there. I know. I'm sorry, just...old, stupid fears?”

“Ah, yes. I know those well.” Aziraphale kissed her hand. “Eat your supper, love. Our bed's calling.”

Crowley laughed – but she also ate faster.

The next morning they left the prairies and turned towards the foothills, where Madame's little town lay. They had been safe in the war, and were undamaged, but Crowley admitted she couldn't even see scars of war in the countryside they were going through.

“Well, it _was_ a good twenty years go,” Aziraphale pointed out. “Even my scars have faded a good bit.” She smiled at Crowley, and reached for her hand. “The land around here heals fast. Ten years ago we might have seen some abandoned homesteads, but they've either been taken, or gone back to the earth. Summers and winters are pretty harsh around here.”

“Tell me about growing up here?” Crowley asked. “Please?”

Aziraphale grinned and squeezed her hand, then let go to take a swig from her canteen. “Oh, gosh. It was magical, Crowley. I ran absolutely feral in between chores and things. We were pretty far out so I didn't have many close chums, but I'd play that my dolls were friends, and imagine the people from the stories Mama and Papa told me were my friends too.” She paused. “All right, that makes me sound pathetic and lonely, and I really wasn't!”

Crowley laughed hard that that. “It doesn't!” She paused. “Much.”

“Thank you for that,” Aziraphale said dryly. “Really.”

“Always here for you, love of my life,” Crowley said cheerfully. “You must have had some interactions with the outside world, though.”

“Certainly. We'd ride to the nearest town on Sundays for church, and I could play with children my own age then.” Aziraphale's smile was soft, remembering. “Mostly we'd just run around and scream.”

“Oh, yes, I had that game too,” Crowley said, and they grinned at one another. 

“I was very lucky,” Aziraphale said. “I had so much freedom. And, well, you can see it. It's so beautiful, and it feels like you could start walking and cross the whole world. And the prairie in spring...” She smiled, remembering. “Every flower is in bloom and the whole world feels alive, especially after the harsh winter. I might not have been allowed out for a month or more, but when the snows even just started to melt, I was free again!”

“It sounds amazing,” Crowley said softly, watching Aziraphale's face transform. “We'll have to come some year in spring, so you can show me.”

“Oh, I'd love that!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “We can go camping, and watch the stars overhead and oh, _Crowley_. I get to share this with you.” She drew Aster close and pulled Crowley into a hug. “I get to show you the land that made me, even if I can't introduce you to the people who made me.”

Crowley hugged her gently, rubbing her back, thinking about a carefree little girl running through tall grasses, and the scar in Aziraphale's side, the damage that would never heal, and the hidden scars in the landscape. It seemed...unfair, that something as big as a country could heal, and her love had trouble on wet days, and cried at the Feast of All Souls, and hadn't had a chance to grow up slow. And after a few years of blissful schooling, had been catapulted into a deeply abusive, cruel court.

Well, no one had ever promised either of them fair.

The ride was easy now, wide and flat as they skirted foothills, and only started to climb just before they'd normally break for lunch.

“It's just a little further,” Aziraphale said. “Are you all right to keep going, my dear? Madame will have lunch ready for us, if I know her, and it won't be more than an hour.”

“If you're all right, I'm fine,” Crowley promised. “Those apples we had will keep me very well.”

Aziraphale grinned – they'd gone past an overgrown orchard and helped themselves to some windfall, and the apples had been wild, tangy and delicious. “Same. It'll be worth the wait, I promise!” She gave a happy little wiggle, and nudged Aster to go a bit faster. Bentley picked up pace at the same time, and Crowley was too busy making sure she kept her seat to get nervous. Besides, it would be  _fine_ . She was worrying over nothing.

She kept telling herself this as they entered the village – really a single, busy street, with a few scattered roads trailing off of it, houses and inns and various shops all mixed in together. The main road was wide and cobbled, and they slowed to keep up with the relatively busy traffic – a few carts, more horses, and plenty of people on foot.

Crowley looked around curiously, of course – this was where Aziraphale had recovered, and her home until she had come to Terra. (Well, until she'd gone to Heaven's Court, but  _that place_ hardly counted, not in any kind of good way anyway.) It was a bustling, pretty little town, a bit patchworked together over time, and she found she quite liked it. There was a great, lovely bell tower and a little park around it, and a cafe next to that, and she thought she'd very much like to take Aziraphale there for cake and tea and people-watching.

They attracted a few interested looks, but no one recognized Aziraphale until they reached the inn just down the road from Madame, where arrangements had been made to board the horses.

“Maestra!” An older man greeted them, and Aziraphale swung down and into a hug.

“Michael, it's so good to see you,” she said warmly. “How have you been?”

“Exactly as always, as you well know,” he said cheerfully, and held up his hand to Crowley. “Can I help you down, Mistress?”

Either he didn't know her true status, or didn't want to call attention – either way, Crowley was pleased. “Honestly, yes?” she admitted, laughing a little. “I'm sorry, I've gone rather stiff.”

“I knew we should have taken a break and walked a bit,” Aziraphale scolded, as she and Michael all but lifted Crowley out of the saddle. “You poor girl.”

“No need to fuss,” Crowley said. “I'll be just fine after a quick walk.” She was speaking Caelish, and easily at that, and glowed a little.

“We'll send your bags over,” Michael promised. “Although I might pick something to hold ransom, to make sure you come and have a drink.”

“Tonight,” Aziraphale promised, taking Crowley's hand. “I'm sorry to dash so soon--”

He waved his hand. “Madame's waiting for you. I'll have pints ready for you both after supper.”

“You _are_ a dear,” Aziraphale said, and kissed his cheek, and lead the way out back to the road, past a few buildings, to a house set back from the street. 

They passed under an arch covered in blooming roses, and Crowley reminded herself to be brave, and also to breathe, especially when the door flew open, and there she was, just as Aziraphale had described. Trim, older than both of them and shorter too, but full of energy, her red hair flying, her dress a mix of colour and pattern and trim that Crowley had never seen before, and aimed straight for Aziraphale.

She scooped her up in an enormous hug, both women laughing and kissing each other' cheeks and laughing some more.

“Look at you! Oh, you look so healthy.” Madame pulled back and cupped Aziraphale's face in her hands. “Absolutely glowing, and you aren't limping in the least, my sweet girl.”

Aziraphale giggled. “Wait'll it rains. But yes, good days are really good.”

“Wonderful. You're shining, dear, the happiness is just pouring off of you.” Madame hugged her again, and didn't _exactly_ toss her to one side, but there was an enthusiastic parting of ways as she made a beeline for Crowley.

Who might have flinched.

“This is my Crowley,” Aziraphale said softly. “My wife.”

“Of course she is. Welcome, sweetheart.” Crowley found herself caught up in a mighty hug, and instinctively hugged back, drawn in by this nice woman. She was batty and colourful and smelled good, and she was _kind_. Well, of course she was; she'd only gone and taken in an orphan on death's doorstep without a second thought.

“It's so good to finally meet you,” Madame said warmly. “I've heard everything about you. Aziraphale, she's just as beautiful as you said.”

“Madame!”

Crowley blushed. “Um. It's good to meet you...too,” she said, stumbling over her careful Caelish.

“Welcome to the family,” Madame said. “Though you don't need _me_ to tell you that, I suppose.” She winked at Aziraphale in a ridiculously exaggerated manner, which was good because Crowley's heart was shattering and being made anew, and she needed a moment.

“Right, my girl, we've finally met and you're as lovely as was described to me in some _very long_ letters.” Madame said, patting her cheek. “But come in – you both must be tired from travelling. Aziraphale, you'll be up in your old bedroom, of course, should be room in the closet for both your things.”

“Really?” Aziraphale asked. “Wherever did you put your hat collection?”

Madame gave her a little swat on the rear. “That's enough cheek, miss, into the house and you and your wife go clean up as best you can until Michael's boy gets here with your luggage. I'll have a good dinner waiting for you.”

“Dinner?” Crowley asked, bewildered, as they went up a set of stairs. They were carpeted in green with pink flowers, and it made Crowley a little dizzy to look at it. 

“That's what she calls lunch, it's a whole thing,” Aziraphale said, and lead her down the hall to a white door, and through there to a bedroom of surprising size that overlooked the street below.

“Oh, it's beautiful!” Crowley laughed, turning around and taking it all in. “What a wonderful place, sweetheart.”

“It's the biggest bedroom, but I needed a bit more space when I was recovering,” Aziraphale explained. “And Madame found she liked the back bedroom far better, so she stayed in it.”

There was a big bed pushed into one corner, overflowing with quilts and pillows. Crowley was gratified to see a few stiff bolsters – sometimes Aziraphale needed them to ease her hip on bad days, and it made sense that there would be some here. A vanity sat against the wall, and a pitcher and ewer on a completely mismatched stand beside it. Most of the rest of the room was open, although there were boxes and things piled high against yet another wall. The room was cluttered and a bit dusty, but wonderfully colourful and warm and welcoming.

Aziraphale poured some water out of the pitcher and splashed her face and neck clean, taking off her riding-dress with a happy sigh and a little wriggle. Crowley took her jacket off, but shied away from the skirt. It wasn't so very dusty, and she hated the sight of herself in breeches so...

Aziraphale shamelessly tossed the ewer of water out onto the garden just below the window, and Crowley took her turn, washing away the grit of the road and feeling far more herself, even barefaced. She peered around anew, taking in the room without her dark glasses. Most of the things in it seemed to belong to Madame; well, that made sense. There were a few boxes marked with Aziraphale's name in one corner, though, and Crowley peered closer.

“Oh! Was that yours, love?” she asked. The boxes were atop and around a little wickerwork wheelchair, prettier than Crowley would have expected.

“Good Lord, she kept that? Yes – I used it for a few months when I was recovering,” Aziraphale explained, shaking her head and smiling. “I don't know why she hangs onto it, but I suppose someone around here will have need of it someday.”

“Can I see it?” Crowley asked shyly. “Just – it was yours. And it, um. Let you get out of bed, right? And move around a bit?”

“It did,” Azirpahale agreed. “I could push myself around the room easily enough, and if someone carried me downstairs, I could go out on a short walk. Longer if someone was willing to push. And of course you can see, dear.” She moved a few boxes aside easily, and smiled softly at Crowley. “Try it out, my curious girl.” 

Crowley liked to understand. Whenever Aziraphale was on crutches – rarely enough, thank heavens – she asked to try them out, swinging her way through the Library and usually complaining loudly how her arms ached immediately. There were some special stretches Aziraphale did sometimes too, to ease sore and tight muscles, and Crowley had learned to copy her – to help, of course, but also because she was curious. She knew Aziraphale's body as well as her own, but didn't know what it was like to  _live_ in it. And she wanted to know so badly.

She settled herself in the little wheelchair, marvelling at it. “You were a tiny thing, weren't you!”

Aziraphale laughed. “I guess I was – I was pretty thin, and not quite done growing height-wise either. Yes, you rest your feet there – that's it, dearest.”

Crowley pushed herself forward the way she'd seen others do, and tried to put herself in Aziraphale's place. A young girl, snatched away from death, a long, painful recovery. But home, and peace, and someone who loved her, and books to read and stories to listen to even as she mourned her parents and her home and a pain-free body.

With a little coaching, Crowley pushed herself over to the window and leaned out.

“That's just exactly how I'd sit,” Aziraphale said, voice warm with memory. “Watch the whole world, until I could go out in it.”

“It's a good view,” Crowley said dreamily, lost in recording every sensation in her body, the way she twisted, but didn't put weight on one hip, the way her legs were supported, the way she could rest her chin on her hands and be comfortable for hours.

She didn't have hours, though, of course – just a few minutes to turn herself around, a laughing Aziraphale talking her through how to hold and pivot and push off again, the wheelchair still moving easily.

“What does it feel like to be pushed?” she asked.

“Like this, love,” Aziraphale said, coming up behind her. She was strong, and Crowley sat quietly as Aziraphale pushed her back across the room, taking in the sensations, and the amount of trust needed in her angel.

Crowley got up, once the wheelchair was back where she'd found it, and moved the boxes back into place before pulling Aziraphale into a hug. “Thank you. For everything,” she said simply.  
“You're welcome. I love you.” Aziraphale sighed softly, and nestled in Crowley's arms. “Thank you for coming with me. It...means a great deal. I never thought I would have someone as dear as you are, and thought less that I would bring her to this home. That I wouldn't want to be away from her, and want to show her the place that made me. You're so  _special_ Crowley. I never dreamed someone like you existed.”

“Oh, angel.” Crowley gave her a long, cuddly hug. “I'm here, always. Love you, always. Now come on, those apples were a long time ago and you need to eat,” she said firmly, leaving one arm around Aziraphale's waist and walking her firmly to the door. 

“I _am_ a bit peckish...”

Crowley just smiled, and towed her downstairs to get a proper meal into them both.

Lunch was wonderful – both the meal, which was hot and filling, and the company. Madame was a consummate storyteller, and Crowley instantly loved every story she told – from both of her lines of work.

“Master Jolyon? Good heavens.” Aziraphale said, amazed. “He was a hundred years old when I was a girl!”

Madame shot her a dirty look. “He wasn't much older than you are now, you've just grown up since, young miss. And he's quite a nice one, too. Understands that my knees aren't what they used to be.”

Crowley made a consoling sound, and Madame blessed her with a warm smile.

“See, Crowley understands. You're the elder, aren't you dear?” Not very subtly, she offered them both seconds – which they both took, and something glowed in Crowley to see her girl eating her fill, healthy and happy. The last time she'd been here, she was still at Heaven's Court and, well. For returning a happy, relaxed, plump woman alone, Crowley thought Terra might get a few points from Madame.

(Of  _course_ it was a competition. The prize was that Aziraphale was happy now, surrounded with people who cared about her.)

“I am,” Crowley agreed, grinning only a little smugly. “Just by two years, though.”

“Still.” Madame blessed her with a warm smile, and Crowley basked in it.

“Madame, you know you don't need to work anymore,” Aziraphale said gently. “Anything you need at all, we can take care of it.”

Crowley shook herself free of the heady cloud of joy caused by Madame not hating her on sight. “Seconding. Please, don't ever worry about anything, especially money.”

“What good girls you are,” Madame said. “I'm quite all right, though. I don't think I could ever retire, what would I _do_ with myself? But I'm working less, and happy as can be. With what you send me, Aziraphale, I live like a queen.” She winked at Crowley. “Well, perhaps not _really_ , but you know what I mean.”

Crowley laughed, sweetly charmed. “Should you ever want to actually live like a queen, please, just ask,” she begged. “I...you saved my beloved's life.”

“Tch. If it wasn't me, it would have been someone else,” Madame said, waving it all away.

“But it wasn't. It was you. And you taught her she was still beautiful and desirable, and you got her books and got her into the Guild and...” Crowley blinked her eyes. “I know it wasn't easy. I _know_. And that's not even a joke about how much you whinge when you're laid up,” she teased Aziraphale, trying to lighten the air. “I just...you deserve the nicest things you can imagine now.”

“Oh, my dear girl.” Madame got up and came around the table, hugging Crowley, who hugged back, her face pressed into Madame's side. “You sweet, wonderful thing, no wonder Aziraphale fell in love with you. I'm _fine_. I'm happy. I promise, I want a quiet life, with my work and my friends. I'll ask if I ever need more, I promise.”

Crowley nodded. “Sorry...”

“Don't you dare be. Poor thing, you're all worn out from travel,” she scolded. “If you're both done with lunch, Aziraphale take her up to bed and take a little nap, both of you.”

“That sounds lovely,” Aziraphale admitted, rubbing Crowley's back. “Come on, my sleepy girl. We can explore later – I thought I might take her to see the slough at sunset,” she told Madame.

“Oh, that _will_ be beautiful. Up you go, sweetheart.” Madame hauled Crowley to her feet and gave her another hug. “You'll feel right as rain after a sleep and a few hours not on a horse.”

Crowley laughed and hugged her back. Madame liked her! “I will. I'm sorry. Thank you.”

“Into bed, you're rambling,” Madame said firmly, and her words carried them up the stairs and into the bright bedroom.

Crowley paused just long enough to get her boots and her riding clothes off – their things had arrived, and she'd have a clean dress to change into – and completely nude, she tumbled under the covers, snuggling up against the wall. She tried to stay awake to welcome Aziraphale to bed too, but the warm blankets and the exhaustion from travel called too strongly, and she was fast asleep between one breath and the next.

She woke up almost as fast as she fell asleep, stretching and groaning and blinking her eyes, smiling at her lovely beside her. Aziraphale must have woken up much earlier, if she napped at all – she was dressed in one of her usual gowns, and was sat up in bed beside Crowley, reading avidly.

Crowley kissed her hip.

Aziraphale turned a page.

Crowley nuzzled a little higher up, where there was a particularly delectable pooch. She was on Aziraphale's good side, so didn't stint or be careful with where her nose poked.

Aziraphale made a little breathy noise, and turned a page again, fast. Crowley, by now, could recognize the signs of the love of her life caught up in a rip-roaring story. However, she was here  _in bed_ ,  _naked_ , and  _wanted attention_ .

Aziraphale's little yelp when Crowley's bite landed was wonderfully gratifying, and even getting swatted lightly with the book was pretty delightful, because it meant she had her angel's attention.

“I'm awake,” she pointed out helpfully.

“I'm going to smother you,” Aziraphale said, smiling down at her.

“You never would, I'm too cute,” Crowley said confidently, and bit her hip again, more nicely this time.  
“Bold words,” Aziraphale said, but she also put her book aside and slid down the bed, gathering Crowley into her arms and _finally_ kissing her properly.

“Uh huh.” Crowley smiled and snuggled a bit closer. “Did you sleep at all?”

“A bit. I'm not so tired as you,” Aziraphale said, scritching Crowley's back deliciously. “You slept a good two hours, by the way.”

“Someday you'll get me in riding shape,” Crowley murmured, lost in the lovely feeling of being petted and cuddled.

“You are, darling. No, I mean it – you kept up with me so easily! It's no shame to need a bit of a sleep. You were very nervous, weren't you?”

Crowley nodded, and groaned when Aziraphale hit a truly itchy spot, her fingernails  _delicious_ on Crowley's back.

“And now the hard part is over. You met Madame, and you love her and she loves you, so you can rest,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley smiled and rolled them over, reaching for a long kiss. “Uh huh,” she said, when they took a breath, and she could smile down at Aziraphale beneath her on the soft bed, and kiss her again, mouths open and wet and  _oh_ . Her cock had definitely woken up.

“My beautiful girl,” Aziraphale murmured. “Roll over on top of me, so your back's to my belly...yes, perfect.” She raised her knees so Crowley's hips were cradled between her legs, and Aziraphale could reach around her and wrap her hand around Crowley's cock, starting to stroke slowly, spreading the wet at the tip.

“My beautiful woman,” she breathed into Crowley's ear before kissing the soft place just under her earlobe, which always made her gasp and not know what to do with her hands. “My gorgeous, my brave, my kind lady. I love you so much.” Her hand picked up a little speed, knowing by now exactly what Crowley liked, splayed and held by Aziraphale's body, her hand _so_ nice on her cock...

Aziraphale worked her over, drawing it out just enough, Crowley feeling exposed on her back but also so, so loved, Aziraphale's body her bed as she came with a quiet cry and a shudder, Aziraphale's hand catching her spend neatly.

“ _Such_ a good girl,” Aziraphale praised. “You come so beautifully for me. Taste yourself, love?” She proffered her hand, and Crowley obligingly licked it clean, still shaking a little. 

“Oh, leave a bit for me,” Aziraphale said, and kissed her neck before depositing Crowley where she could watch Aziraphale's clever tongue finish off cleaning her hand. And then, of course, go right into her arms for a tender little cuddle, still feeling a little shaky and vulnerable, even as her body felt _wonderful_.

“D'you want...?” she offered. Aziraphale was usually the one who went first. And second. And third. And fourth. And sometimes beyond, if they had a lot of time to play and Crowley's jaw was limber.

“Not just now. I'd rather hold you, sweetheart. Maybe tonight, at bedtime.” Aziraphale kissed her, and kissed her again, and gave her a safe and warm and beloved place to land in her body again, her breasts bare against her lover's soft gown, and her cock small and soft again.

“I'd like that,” Crowley murmured. “Want to kiss your clit.”

“I'd like _that_ ,” Aziraphale said, voice warm and amused. “But right now is about you, my demoness, and how much I love you and how safe you are.”

Crowley's smile somehow grew bigger as she snuggled deeper in Aziraphale's arms, deliciously in love and deliciously happy.

They cuddled for a good long time, and Aziraphale smoothed Crowley's hair out of her face, the little strands and things that had come loose over the course of the day. “Really, Crowley, do you feel better? You can stay in bed all afternoon if you want, the slough will still be there for us tomorrow.”

“I feel better,” Crowley said. “Just afterglow-y, now. I want to go for a walk and explore and things.” She smiled shyly. “Madame really doesn't mind me, does she?”

“She likes you very much,” Aziraphale said. “I promise. It's okay, you'll get more comfortable with each other. Do you feel safe?”

“Perfectly,” Crowley assured her. “Sorry I'm annoying.”

“You're a gem, is what you are.” Aziraphale kissed her forehead. “Wait'll we meet someone you know well and I don't. I'm going to be a wreck.”

“What? Whyever for?” Crowley asked, genuinely dumbfounded.

“I worry I'm not pretty enough for you, or thin enough,” Aziraphale said bluntly. “In other peoples' eyes, I mean. And I'm a commoner – a farm girl, for all my education. I'm disabled, and quiet, and awkward, and traumatized. I can go on?”

“Oh my God. _Dove_.” Crowley's jaw actually dropped. “You...I...I don't.” She paused and took a deep breath, and ordered her thoughts. “I...don't understand,” she admitted. “I look at you, and I see perfection. The woman who I want to spend the rest of my life with, every single day. But I _believe_ you. I understand, a little, where these fears come from, I s'pose.” She cupped Aziraphale's face in her hands. “I will do everything I can to keep you safe. We both know there are people in the world who all of that _does_ matter to. You've promised you'd never take me anywhere you couldn't be sure I would be loved and accepted. You don't have to believe me yet, but I promise you the same thing, okay? I _do_ have ex-lovers who would look down on you for your birth, your disability, your body. And you will never, ever meet them. They don't deserve to know you.”

“Oh, Crowley. I believe you.” Aziraphale smiled softly, the way she had that made her almost glow. “I know you'll take care of me, I promise I know. I'll be nervous just the same, but I know.” She hugged Crowley tightly. “I love you so much. I feel safe with you.”

“Good,” Crowley whispered, and rubbed her back, and kissed her hair. “I love you too. Right, I should get dressed and sort my hair out, and then you can take me to – what _is_ a slough, actually?”

Aziraphale grinned and kissed over her heart. “It's a wetland; a slow stream kind of thing. But everything around it is so strange and lovely and not like what grows anywhere else, and you can watch the sun set over the prairie from a little bluff. I think you'll love it.”

“I think I will too, angel.” One more kiss, and Crowley rolled off and went to unpack her things. She picked a sensible, plain gown of dark grey cotton, and quickly got dressed, lacing her corset tight enough for support and so the gown fit, but loose enough to be able to go on a ramble comfortably.

The sun was already late-afternoon low when they set out, hand-in-hand, and it made the pretty little village even prettier, Crowley thought. The cobblestones and the weathered wooden houses, and the mountains hemming them in, it all made her feel safe and warm and good.

“Did you feel safe here, Aziraphale? When you first came?”

“Oh, good question.” Aziraphale squeezed her hand. “Give me a few minutes to think on that?”

“No hurry, we're on holiday.” Crowley tilted her head up, smiling at the sky. The mountains were a different colour, here, and the trees were different too, just a bit. And they were strange – not a range, like at home in Terra, but individual mountains poking up from the prairie, which left her feeling wild and breathless, so much _space_!

They walked to the end of the cobblestone street, and followed the smaller dirt path it turned into a little ways, before Aziraphale guided them left, through a stand of cottonwood trees and onto the prairie proper. 

“No,” she finally said. “I didn't, but it's not anybody's fault. I mean, no one here. That first month, I don't think I felt anything, to tell you the truth.”

“Of course,” Crowley said, flushing. “What a stupid question. You were dealing with...everything horrible, all at once.”

“It's not a stupid question. But, yes, there was a lot happening.” Aziraphale smiled softly at her. “I don't have many memories, period, from that time, and none of them good. But even after I was awake a bit more, and aware...not yet.” She swung their joined hands, and paused to pick a daisy, turning to tuck it into Crowley's braids.

“You look like a farmer's daughter now too,” she said with a smile. “My beauty. It took me a good while to feel safe again. Not really until I could walk again under my own power and had lived with Madame for several months. And the war ended. I mean, you've seen me – sometimes I'm still deeply afraid, and I get panic attacks and such. So I guess the answer to your question is – eventually. Somewhat.”

“Thank you,” Crowley said. “I'm sorry if I made you think on sad things.”

“I always think on sad things when I'm here,” Aziraphale said absently. “This was my home, and it was taken away from me. But I have a new home now, and I'm happy there. I belong in Terra.” She smiled over her shoulder, the path thinning and forcing them to walk in single file. “It helps, to have you here, love. The sad things – I can deal with them.”

Crowley walked faster for a step or two, so she could catch Aziraphale around her waist and hug her. The landscape was slowly changing around them, the grasses growing taller, a different species, the birdsong changing a little. There were cattails just up ahead, and Crowley felt very small in the big world, and very in love.

She tried to think of something to say, but as happened so often, words failed, and she hoped the hug and the kiss pressed to Aziraphale's cheek managed, somehow or some way, to let her angel know that she was so beloved, and that she belonged, that she had a home forever, that Crowley would always, always be there to help with the sad things.

(Wildly, for just a moment, she hoped she would outlive Aziraphale, so her girl would never be alone in the world again.)

Aziraphale leaned back against her and squeezed her hands. “Why did you ask?”

“I love it here,” Crowley said. “I love the way the mountains are, and all the space. _I_ feel safe.”

“Oh, Crowley!” Aziraphale turned and hugged her tightly. “That's wonderful. It's a really special place,” she said, and kissed Crowley's cheek. “Come on, I want you to see the sunset, and we've got to climb a bit.”

Crowley groaned. “I'm sleeping in tomorrow,” she threatened.

“As you like,” Aziraphale said cheerfully, leading the way along the edge of the slough. The path diverged again, and she led them up a switchbacked trail, climbing now in lower grasses mixed with wildflowers.

“We're definitely having sex here, right?” Crowley asked. “With all the grass and wildflowers and everything?” If she could get her beloved bare-assed – oh, Aziraphale would make a _stunning_ harvest queen or whatever they wanted to play at. Crowley was going to decorate her with flowers and make love to her under the sun.

“Oh, absolutely,” Aziraphale assured her. “Promise. I know just the spot, too, lovely and private and you'll be wreathed in flowers the whole time.”

Crowley grinned, and concentrated on keeping up with Aziraphale as she strode up the path. Bloody hell, she was  _strong_ . Apparently those luscious thick thighs weren't just for decoration and/or warming Crowley's ears.

They broke over the top of the bluff just as the sun was about to kiss the horizon. There was nowhere uncomfortable to sit in the deep, thick grass, and Aziraphale led them near the edge before settling down. The curled up in each other's arms, keeping warm against the cooling air and sharing a kiss.

“It's already magical,” Crowley said, smiling at her pretty girl. Aziraphale's skin and hair glowed in the golden light, and she looked healthy and happy and _right_. This was the land that grew her, and it was good to see her back among the prairie grasses, her farmgirl-turned-Maestra. 

“Just you wait.” Aziraphale gave her a little squeeze, and kissed her neck. “I love you.”

“Love you too, angel.”

And they sat quietly, and watched the sun set, the sky turn all the colours as night began to steal on and the clouds aflame in red and pink. The land started gold, and turned to purple, spread out before them forever, and Crowley may possibly have stopped breathing for a moment, she was so overwhelmed with the landscape before them. She was glad they were sat down; this was  _dizzying_ .

They sat together, silent, until the sun cleared the horizon and night was truly falling.

“Well?” Azirpahale asked, and Crowley exhaled hard.

“How could you ever leave?” she asked.

“I was walking to my destiny, where my heart would lie forever,” Aziraphale said, and kissed her, slow and sweet. “That's with you, in case you weren't sure.”

Crowley laughed, and hugged her. “I'd guessed something like that. Thank you. What a beautiful sight.”

“Also you're not here in winter, when the wind blows right through you and we'd both be frozen solid by now,” Aziraphale said cheerfully, as she helped Crowley to her feet. “I'm showing off Caelis at her finest.”

“Fair enough.” They began to descend, to the village and supper and a warm fire, hand in hand. “Did you like Terra when you arrived, even in winter?”

“I did,” Aziraphale said. “It's a beautiful little kingdom. And I was so happy to be _anywhere_ , to be honest. I needed to rest and start to heal at the Guild, but I wasn't really happy until I had a post again.”

Crowley just squeezed her hand, and moved behind her as the path grew thin again, dark already in the cover of the slough.

The path was clear even in the falling twilight, and they walked back to Madame's house easily, arriving just in time for a good, hot supper.

“I'm kicking you both out of the kitchen once we've eaten,” Madame said. “Got a séance scheduled, and they expect some _ambiance_.”

Aziraphale grinned. “Yes, Madame. We promised Michael a drink anyway, so we'll be out of the house.”

“Would it destroy my reputation forever to beg off?” Crowley asked. “I just...want to stay here, I think. In the bedroom, I mean. Rest a bit.”

“Of course not,” Aziraphale said. “Honestly, he's going to turn me upside down and shake me until I spill everything about you – everything that's public knowledge,” she corrected herself pointedly, and Crowley smiled.

“I have no sympathy, Auntie does the same thing to me regarding you about once a month.”

“I hope Michael's ready for a long night, you _can_ go on a bit dear,” Madame said. She touched Crowley's arm. “Are you well, sweetheart? You can sit out in the garden for a bit if you like, it's lovely and quiet out there, too.”

“I'm fine, truly,” Crowley promised, a little touched at this, well, motherliness. It had been awhile. “I'm not as used to being on a horse as Aziraphale, is all. Bit tired. Can I help clean up?”

“Absolutely not,” Madame said. “Not on your first night home, house rules.” She had risen to clear the table, and dropped a kiss atop Crowley's head. “Aziraphale, pretend I taught you some manners and take my daughter-in-law up to your room and make her comfortable.”

“Yes, Madame,” Aziraphale teased, while Crowley's brain exploded.

At least she didn't start crying until they were safely in their bedroom and Aziraphale could cuddle her properly, the two of them sat on the big bed. 

“I told you she'd love you,” Aziraphale said.

“I have a mother-in-law,” Crowley sobbed. “I don't even have a _mother_.”

“Oh, you poor thing...” Aziraphale rocked her and kissed her and rubbed her back, and the little storm of overwhelm soon passed. 

“All right?” she asked gently. “I know you need some alone time, but I can stay, too. Michael will understand.”

Crowley shook her head. “No, I mean – I'm okay. Promise, dove. Go and have a drink; I'll be fine here.” She had some knitting, and could simply sit and enjoy the quiet, soak in the new air and smells and the the little room that would be home for a few days.

“Good girl. I love you. I won't be very long – I'm tired too.” Aziraphale kissed her brow, retrieved a warm wrap from their luggage, and set out for the short walk to the pub.


	5. Chapter 5

It was strange to be back, familiar cobbles under her feet, Aziraphale thought. Strange, but good. The last time she'd been here was near the end of her time at Heaven's Court. She'd had...well, a bit of a breakdown, really. They were sick of her too, and it had been easy to request a month's leave, to return to a place where she was loved and wanted.

It hadn't been so very long ago; maybe four years or so. But what a  _change_ ! She kept her head up, gazing around her, drinking in the quiet village evening, a few other people out and about, but mostly just her and the soft night-sounds. Last time she had been here, Aziraphale had made herself as small as she could, head bowed, hurrying everywhere. 

There was no need to hurry tonight. A pint with an old friend, a chance to brag about Crowley, and then home to her own true love and the bed that held so many good and bad memories for her. They'd add a few good memories this stay. Of course Aziraphale would never forget the weeks lying there, fighting to regain strength and movement while dealing with so much, but she'd also have waking up in Crowley's arms and sleepy kisses and cuddles, her head tucked under Crowley's chin, listening to her heartbeat, head resting on her bosom...

Aziraphale stumbled on an uneven cobble and caught herself, grinning. Right, best pay attention if she wanted to make it out and back in one piece.

The pub was at its usual quiet hum when Aziraphale came in, and Michael spotted her immediately, throwing up an arm to call hello and point her to the table set aside in a corner. He was there just as soon as she'd settled, two pints in hand and a kiss on her cheek.

“No Princess?” he asked.

“Damn, we were hoping no one knew who she was,” Aziraphale said with a ready grin. Oh, she was _home_ , her own familiar tongue. Of course she and Crowley spoke Caelish to each other, but Crowley was a beginner, not yet easy. That would come, and Aziraphale would die before giving up what they had, the gentle little language lessons, but still. Not the _same_.

“If it helps, no one much cares,” Michael offered, and Aziraphale laughed and admitted that yes, that did rather help. 

“She sends her regrets, but she's a bit tired from travelling,” she explained. “I promise I'll bring her 'round and you can meet her properly soon.”

“Fair enough. You've gone and fallen in love, haven't you?” he asked, with no preamble.

“She's my one. My everything,” Aziraphale said simply. “She's it. So yes, fallen in love it is, I suppose.” Her smile softened. “I adore her. And she loves me in return. We're a good pair, Michael.”

“Anyone can tell that, just looking at you two,” he assured her. “She makes you very happy, doesn't she?”

“Her, and the whole court. I would be doing so much better even if I hadn't met her, or we hadn't fallen in love,” Aziraphale said, taking a sip of her pint. She wasn't much of a beer-drinker, but it tasted good and right, settled where she was. “Everyone's very kind, and I do love it there.”

Michael nodded, and asked about her Library, and they passed a deeply companionable hour or so talking their respective businesses, getting Aziraphale caught up on the village gossip, and Aziraphale only gushing about Crowley a few more times. (With some bonus gushing about her opportunities to ride and hunt and ramble.)

She left after the single pint; Crowley wasn't the only one tired from the days of travel and their little ramble that afternoon, and she begged off with a hug and kiss and a promise to bring her by before they left.

“I'll be more lively company too,” she admitted ruefully, and Michael just smiled and patted her shoulder. 

“We're all getting older, lively company is for children,” he told her, and she took her leave, wandering back to Madame's house. This was where she'd taken her first little forays from home, freshly healed from her physical hurts, and it felt amazing to be back not only healed in body, but with more love and affection than she could ever have dreamed of.

She let herself in the front gate, and on a hunch looked up – and yes, there was Crowley sat in the bedroom window, working her knitting and watching the world below. Aziraphale waved up at her and got a cheerful wave back, and if that wasn't going to hurry her along, nothing would.

She slipped into the house, smiling at the muffled sounds from the kitchen, and tip-toed upstairs to the bedroom. Crowley had pulled a chair over by the window, and was just closing the curtains, having put her knitting away, when Aziraphale came over for a comfortable hug and kiss, resting her head on Crowley's shoulder for a moment.

“Feeling better?” she asked, giving her girl a little squeeze.

“I wasn't feeling poorly, but yes.” Crowley kissed her temple, lingering a little on the scar there at her hairline. “How was your drink?”

“Lovely. I promised Michael I'd bring you by before we left.” She smiled and tilted her head up for a kiss. “All I want to do is sleep forever, mind.”

Crowley laughed softly. “Honestly, same. Right, into bed with you, miss.” She'd already changed into her nightgown, and only really had to take her dressing-gown off while Aziraphale went about the business of wriggling out of dress and corset, petticoats and stockings.

(Of course, Crowley was allowed to help with the stockings – Aziraphale was nice like that, she thought, and it  _did_ make her clit throb to lie back on the pillows and be lazy while Crowley slowly undid her garters and caressed and massaged her legs, while incidentally undressing her.)

They were both well too tired for sex, but a few long, openmouthed kisses never went awry, and neither did Crowley lightly fingering her, just dipping between her labia and giving her clit a few lazy rubs, just to make her soft and happy. She ended with a kiss to each nipple, and a final one to the tip of Aziraphale's nose, before finally letting her up and into her nightgown.

“Tomorrow,” Aziraphale threatened, in between yawns. “It's been ages since I had your cock in my mouth. Far too long.”

“I miss the way your tits move when you come really hard,” Crowley agreed, already in bed and holding up the blankets. “And I want to kiss your legs. You brought the really long stockings, right?”

“Of course, dearest. I'll wear them tomorrow,” Aziraphale promised, blowing out the last candle and snuggling right up to her. “We can go to lunch and be very proper and good in public, and you'll know that my legs are right there, in long stockings that no one else knows about, just ready for you to worship...”

Crowley made a happy noise, kissed her, and even the promise of Aziraphale's stocking-clad legs and a good solid orgasm or six didn't keep them from falling asleep more or less instantly, held in each others' arms.

Aziraphale felt the bed shift, and smiled, even still mostly asleep. Oh, she was so  _warm_ . It was going to be the most beautiful autumn day, and the harvest was in so she might not even be needed very much. Mama would let her run off to the wildest corner of the farm with a book, and a bit of bread and cheese to keep her until supper,  _surely_ she would, on a day as nice as this!

Aziraphale stretched and woke up, dressing quickly and running downstairs to the kitchen. Papa was still tending their cows, but there was Mama at the fire, cooking up bacon for breakfast.

Aziraphale went over and kissed her good morning, and hugged her tightly. It was suddenly very, very important to hug her.

Crowley was sat at the breakfast table, which was odd, because Aziraphale was still a girl, and wouldn't meet her for years. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Don't you remember? I came to visit your family,” she said.

“You're...you should be in Terra,” Aziraphale said. “You're only a girl too.”

Crowley smiled softly. “That's why I love you,” she said. “You know I was always a girl. I'm sorry, dove.”

“For what?” Aziraphale asked, and it was night, and she was lying in the mud and it felt like they'd torn off her leg, she was dying, she was dying, and she looked over and there was Crowley, her dress half torn away, a horrible gouge in her side that matched Aziraphale's.

At least she wasn't screaming when she woke up. Just gasped and sat bolt upright, eyes wide and unseeing for a moment until she looked over and oh, there was her Crowley, alive and well and wiping her face clean.

She was by Aziraphale's side in a moment, of course, and Aziraphale didn't even pretend to not throw herself into Crowley's arms, pressing close. She was all right. They both were; her injury was so very long ago, and of course Crowley had never been caught in a war. She'd had her own sorrows and troubles and nightmares, but she hadn't known nearly dying in the mud.

“Shhh, angel, you're safe,” Crowley murmured, while Aziraphale shook and pressed herself close. “Just a dream, my dove.”

“That's what you called me,” Aziraphale said numbly. “In my nightmare.”

“Even in nightmares, I love you,” Crowley murmured. “Breathe with me. Good girl, feel my chest? Like that. My angel-baby, you're safe, you're so good, just breathe in and out.”

It wasn't that bad, Aziraphale wanted to say. She wasn't having a panic attack. And that might have been true, but the reminder to breathe and be soft and slow was a good one. Crowley breathed deep and slow, and Aziraphale matched her, and they were okay.  _She_ was okay.

“I'm so sorry,” she said, when the storm had passed, and Crowley helped her lay back.

“Whatever for?” Crowley asked, rubbing her belly. “Genuine question. What are you apologising for?”

“Oh. Uh.” Aziraphale paused. “Instinct? For startling you. I know you prefer privacy when you shave. For being...dramatic, first thing in the morning. I'm sorry, I'm just making it worse.”

“You aren't, love,” Crowley said, and kissed her cheek. “Instinct, I'll grant you, I know how you are. But you owe me no apology for having a nightmare, all right? I do prefer privacy, but I prefer you to be safe and loved _more_. And you weren't being dramatic. _I'm_ the dramatic one here, for one,” she teased, and Aziraphale actually smiled at that, and the soft pressure on her belly, and her demoness loving her so much. “I know from dramatic, me. You had a _nightmare_ , my girl. A proper corker, it seems.”

Aziraphale smiled a little more, abashed. “It was. Um. I don't want to talk about it really but...it started off when I was home. The home where I grew up, I mean. Mama was making breakfast, and you were at the kitchen table.”

“Well, of course I was,” Crowley said easily. “Poor little thing. D'you want me to bring you up some coffee?”

Aziraphale shook her head and sat up, and into Crowley's arms for another little cuddle. “I'm fine. Really, I promise. It was just a dream. You're fine. I'm healed. It's all right.”

“I'm not even sore from riding,” Crowley teased, and Aziraphale laughed, flush with warmth and her sweet demoness, and the safety of the present.

She dressed quickly – including the long stockings – and they went down to a late breakfast with Madame, who generally slept in even if she wasn't working nights.

Breakfast was good and hot and filling, and Crowley and Aziraphale agreed that they were on  _holiday_ , and so would be dedicated mostly to reading in the garden and perhaps a few nice walks.

“It's market day,” Madame reminded them. “You ought to at least wander through. Everyone from all the farms around here has taken to coming here, so it's pretty lively.”

“Oooh, yes,” Aziraphale agreed. “Do you want us to pick anything up?”

“Jam if it looks good,” Madame decided. “But don't fret if you don't find any.”

Crowley just smiled, secure in her mission to track down the best jam in the kingdom.

First, of course, was a little time to sit in the garden. Crowley worked her knitting while Madame and Aziraphale drank coffee together and Aziraphale passed on whatever gossip she'd gathered the night before, and told Madame a little more of life at Castle Terra.

Crowley hardly preened at all as Aziraphale talked about riding and hunting, about the friends she was making among the other castle denizens, about how lovely Terra was and how she was proud of her Library.

In turn Madame told a few funny stories about her own lines of work, including about a client who must have been a regular for some time.

“Oh, how lovely,” Aziraphale exclaimed, when Madame mentioned someone in particular. “He was such a dear man. I always liked to see him come through the garden.”

“He's still very dear,” Madame assured her. “Quite understanding when it takes a bit longer to get into the leather pinny.”

Aziraphale hmph'd. “I'd hope he was understanding.”

“ _And_ he pays well,” Madame said with a happy sigh. “In addition to other...advantages.”

Crowley just smiled, and knitted on. Perhaps it was best that her eternally-horny girl had wound up with this sensible lady.

Coffee done with, Madame went off to meet with the blacksmith for an unspecified reason, and Aziraphale moved out into the sun, settling on a small bench beside Crowley and kissing her shoulder. “Hullo, love.”

“Hullo, yourself.” Crowley turned her head, fingers still moving away, and kissed Aziraphale properly. “All recovered from your nightmare?”

“Oh, goodness, yes.” She snuggled up to Crowley's side just the same, though, with a happy sigh. “We can get lunch at the market, there's usually a few stands with things to nibble on.” 

“Lovely,” Crowley said, feeling impossibly mellow in the golden sun, here in this pretty little garden, with her own dear one right here as they made lazy plans – to ride out to the village near where Aziraphale grew up, to walk again on the prairie, to read together and rest and take long naps where they even slept part of the time.

“This needs to be a true holiday,” Crowley fretted at her. “You worked so hard through the harvest, and you've got to do it all again at Christmas, love. Plenty of fresh air and good food and running around wild is the best thing for you.”

Aziraphale laughed. “You make it sound like I'm on my deathbed,” she said, deeply amused, and kissed Crowley's shoulder again. “But also, yes to all of that. Everyone says it's to be a cold winter, so get your freedom in while you can, dearest.”

Content with their plans soon and far in the future, Crowley did – starting with, soon enough, putting her knitting away to properly get her arms around Aziraphale for a good, long snogging session.

They kissed slow and sweet and not innocently at all, knitting entirely forgotten and, well, Crowley would work on it later, and it wasn't like Chae didn't knit his own socks. He'd be fine if it took another week. Or two.

“I love you,” Aziraphale whispered, and touched their noses together, laughing when Crowley went cross-eyed, just to be cute for her.

“I love you too, angel. We should go to the market before someone buys all the best jam, though,” Crowley said.

“Well, of course,” Aziraphale replied, clearly deeply amused. She kissed Crowley's cheek and helped her up, and a brief stop in the bedroom for Crowley to fix her makeup and Aziraphale to grab a basket and a wrap, and they were off.

They walked arm-in-arm up the cobbled road, enjoying the mellow day and the gloriousness of being on holiday, a new place and new routines before they settled into a long, cold winter.

The market was at the far end of the village, and Crowley was a little surprised at its size. Hardly ungrateful, though, as they plunged into the light crowds, on the prowl for the best the countryside had to offer.

Crowley exclaimed aloud as they passed a stand of stuffed animals and dolls. “Oh, please, the littles back home will be wanting something...”

Aziraphale laughed and kissed her shoulder. “Of course they will, Auntie Crowley's spoiled them something awful. Oh, look, it's darling!” She picked up a little stuffed otter and cooed over the details. “Just the thing for Kevin's Annie, don't you think?”

“Oh, that _is_ perfect,” Crowley agreed, and they giggled and spent a good long time picking out their favourites for the children of the castle.

“Would it be weird to get Isolde something?” Crowley asked.

“No, not if it's this _darling_ little snake,” Aziraphale said, adding it to the pile of their purchases. 

“It has my eyes,” Crowley told her, under her breath as they had a brief arm-wrestle over who would pay.

“It's cuter than you too,” Aziraphale said, and took advantage of Crowley's mock-horror to push her way to the front and pay for the pile of goodies.

“You can buy me cake later, if you want to spend your money so bad,” she told Crowley.

“Like I wasn't going to do that _anyway_ ,” Crowley grumbled, but she couldn't even much pretend to be in a bad mood. Especially not when Aziraphale now carried a basket with an array of little glass-eyed creatures peeking out.

Next, of course, was finding a jam worthy of Madame. There were four stands selling jam, and after shaking Aziraphale down for Madame's favourite flavours ('Oh good  _Lord_ , I don't know. Blueberry?'), Crowley began her extremely scientific assessment of each stand's wares.

Halfway through, Aziraphale wandered off to pick up a few things she knew they could use, and a small jar of honey to bring back with her, a little reminder of her first home. She ran into someone she had known in her brief time living in the village, and chatted happily with her, one eye on Crowley to make sure she wasn't getting thrown out.

She and Nika eventually bid each other goodbye, and Aziraphale went to drag Crowley off to do  _something, anything_ else, just in time to watch her buy a few jars from a particular stand.

“Definitely the best on offer,” Crowley gloated, as Aziraphale made a beeline for the food stands.

“Also sold by the prettiest woman,” Aziraphale said.

“Complete coincidence,” Crowley sniffed.

“As you say, love of my life,” Aziraphale said, far too sweetly. “Come on, I'm hungry.” It was the one thing she could say that Crowley would never, ever argue with, and she only abused that sometimes.

Crowley, for her part, was feeling quite satisfied with herself. She really  _had_ bought the nicest jam – the fact that the seller was plump and dark-haired and very, very pretty was jut a happy coincidence. They'd got gifts for all the children back home, and she'd seen a yarn seller that absolutely needed visiting later. And, just in that moment, she was happily sat on a low stone wall on the outskirts of the market square, watching Aziraphale lunch. She had three lovely little meat pies, and was delicately, and very hungrily, downing one after the other. They were smaller than what Crowley was used to, with unusual spices and a softer crust than Terra's Cook made. She was nibbling on two of her own, and basking in the warm sunlight and feeling, she reckoned, about as good as it was possible for a person to feel.

Aziraphale for her part was savouring the familiar flavours and textures, each bite just pure perfection as she filled her belly and basked in the smells and sounds of the market. Crowley was eating a little slower, more ladylike, but Aziraphale was a farm girl at heart and ate like one too. She wolfed down the first two pies quickly, but savoured the third, her hunger sated and now just eating for the pure pleasure of it. The filling was minced lamb and wonderfully spicy, and Aziraphale tried to make it last, eating slow, her free hand slipping around Crowley's waist and resting her head on her wife's shoulder.

“Is it good, baby?” Crowley asked, kind and unnecessary.

“Very. Take a taste, you only got chicken,” Aziraphale urged, holding the little pie up so Crowley could take a delicate nibble.

“Oh, that _is_ good.” She kissed the top of Aziraphale's head. “We can get more, if you're still hungry.”

The warm glow in her belly had...only a little to do with the good food. More to do with the woman beside her, tender and funny and so caring. She  _really cared_ that Aziraphale had enough to eat, that she never stinted herself for some foolish idea that she needed to be thinner. (Because she didn't. And anyway, half-starving herself had never worked; she'd been thinner, yes, but hardly achieved Crowley's measurements. And that was all right, here. She was her and Crowley was Crowley, and they were both beautiful and right for themselves.)

“I'm fine, love,” she promised softly, snuggling closer for a moment. “Promise.”

“Good.” Crowley adjusted Aziraphale's shawl to better cover her shoulder, even in the warm sunlight. She did so love to do these little fusses – urging Aziraphale to put her feet up, or bringing her a thicker shawl, or a cup of tea, or any other little comfort that could be imagined. For her part, Aziraphale, well, she _liked_ being fussed over. She was still a little guilty over that; it seemed self-indulgent and a bit silly. But it made Crowley happy, and, well. It made _her_ happy, to be made much of and spoiled and indulged. She tried her best to make sure Crowley knew how loved and adored and cherished _she_ was, and to return the caring little favours when she could, and simply had to hope that it approached something like enough.

Such thoughts weren't for sunny autumn days, though, and Aziraphale set them aside for another time, opting instead to kiss Crowley's shoulder, and finish her lunch, and gently knock their shoulders together.

Crowley, silent but fighting a smile, knocked right back.

So Aziraphale nudged her a little harder.

So Crowley tickled her side – dirty play, as Aziraphale could be tickled in her corsetless-ness, but couldn't get Crowley back easily. So instead she bumped their shoulders again, taking advantage of weighing more.

Crowley gave up and shoved her, and Aziraphale smirked when she hardly moved, just leaned in, and nearly sent Crowley off the wall, catching her at just the right angle. She laughed and caught her tumbling darling easily, pulling Crowley close, the both of them giggling now, their bodies so close and. All right. Market Day was only once a week, so they ought to visit the sellers while they could, but soon...

Aziraphale met Crowley's eyes, even through her dark glasses, they were that close, and of course Crowley smiled and nodded, promising lovely, wonderful things when they  _did_ get back to their bedroom.

They didn't  _quite_ hurry back, but they didn't dawdle with the rest of their shopping either. Nor did they waste any time; Crowley was barely able to make it to the bed before her angel was crawling atop her, hungry kisses begging, and she decided again that it was a good thing Aziraphale wore such loose robes, and hardly ever bothered with drawers. She could start sliding her hand along her beloved's thigh before they were even undressed, all hungry kisses and rolling around on the big bed, laughing at their own hunger for each other. 

The first orgasm was almost too easy, Crowley's clever fingertips dipping into the softest, wettest part of her angel's body, making her moan and roll her hips, finding her clit and massaging it, an easy orgasm to tease out. Aziraphale's voice had gone breathy, her head thrown back and she was so lovely, so sweet, so  _responsive_ , Crowley just wanted to dive under her gown and get her mouth there, taste her and get her to come again.

A brief break would pay off, though, she knew.  _And_ she got to undress her horny lover who was still moaning softly, her eyelashes fluttering when Crowley touched her belt.

“May I, sweetheart?” she asked softly. Aziraphale had never said no, but she reckoned it didn't hurt to ask.

“If I can undress you next,” Azirpahale murmured, smiling up at her. “Crowley, I love you.”

“I love you too, baby,” Crowley said, and kissed her forehead. “You are so beautiful.” She untied Aziraphale's belt while scattering little kisses over her face, deliberately tickling because a laughing Aziraphale was simply the best thing in the world. Next was her gown, soft goldenrod-coloured wool with pale green embroidery covering nearly all of it in simple, vinelike patterns. It felt nice under Crowley's hands, and even nicer to take off and push to one side. 

Under that, of course, was a shift, still linen in the warm autumn. The thin fabric draped over her body beautifully, showing the curves of her breasts, the soft swell of her belly and her hips. One of Aziraphale's knees was raised, and the fabric had rumpled around the crease of her hip, showing a peek of creamy thigh.

Crowley pushed the shift up a little further and rested her palm against Aziraphale's vulva, rocking softly, leaning for another kiss and finally pulling the shift up and off.

Best for last; Aziraphale's stockings. Her legs were shapely and thick, and Crowley loved to worship them. She cut things a tiny bit short today, though; just removing Aziraphale's garters and rolling the fine-knit wool down, kissing as she went. First her right leg, the muscles swelled under her mouth, her knees, kissing the delicate bones of her ankle and finally her instep, making Aziraphale giggle softly. Then her left, and oh, here she lingered a little, kissing the huge scar where it twisted down over Azirpahale's hip, the skin puckered and shiny. Crowley took her time – poor leg, it had to do a lot of work to get around the damage that had never healed, and deserved a great deal of love and attention, all down to her ankle and instep again.

She meant to start in on kissing Aziraphale's belly and working her way down to the little puff of wiry hair (not to mention what lay beneath it), when Aziraphale stopped her.

“No, I want to see your body too, love,” she said firmly. “Let me undress you?”

“Well, if you insist,” Crowley said, grinning. She flopped down on top of Aziraphale, and laughed when her angel simply manhandled her onto her side. “Farm girl,” she said fondly.

“And don't you forget it, Princess,” Aziraphale teased, and they giggled together and kissed, and kissed again, long and sweet as Aziraphale worked the buttons of Crowley's dress, just enough to ease it off of her and dive to kiss her chest, bared now in just a corset and low, short-sleeved camisole.

“My beautiful,” she murmured, and unclasped the corset's front busk. “Oh, my beautiful girl. No one's as lucky as me.” Crowley was wearing her hair in a long, loose braid, and Aziraphale got to freeing that too, making her glorious in her femme beauty, red curls tumbling everywhere.

Next was the under-corset and, tenderly, Crowley's drawers, untied and carefully slid down and a lingering kiss on her cock (of  _course_ she was already hard,  _look_ at who she was in bed with!) before short work was made of her stockings and finally they were both naked in a pile of bedclothes and their undergarments, bodies coming together and rocking, just pressing along their lengths until they could bear to part for long enough that Crowley could finally dive for Aziraphale's tummy – and everything that came after that.

It was late afternoon when they were both worn out and content to simply hold each other. Well, really, for Aziraphale to hold Crowley close, easing her return to the world. Her orgasm had taken her hard; blissfully, but hard, and now she was cuddled in Aziraphale's arms, face pressed into her shoulder and being gently rocked.  
Aziraphale stroked her hair, following the soft curls down the curve of her shoulder, bones sharp under her soft skin. She smiled and traced the fine, delicate bones that ran across Crowley's chest. Collarbones with points at each end, skin stretched over them, somehow like wings. Her tender princess.

It was funny – her girl, born into a boy's body, who had a figure much more delicate than Aziraphale's. Crowley was strong and resilient, but like this, her long limbs folded up in Aziraphale's lap, she seemed almost breakable. A being who needed protection and care and soft things for her soft heart. Aziraphale smiled at this and kept up her steady petting, giving Crowley affection to wrap around herself and an awareness to come back to, when she was done with her joyful, quiet floating, the afterglow of her powerful orgasms.

Aziraphale laid back against some pillows they'd sensibly set up when she was being eaten out – it  _did_ feel so much better when she was supported and could tilt her hips just so – and savoured Crowley's weight on her. Her thin limbs and the points of her hips and her knobbly knees, her cock lying soft and small between her legs, her breasts likewise soft and small, her nipples so little and so nice to tease into peaks. Crowley's body changed Aziraphale's soft flesh where she lay against it. Her arm rested, curled, between Aziraphale's breasts, gently pushing them apart, slightly flattening the delicate inner edges. There was a little bite mark on one; a treat that would take a day to fully heal. And her hip pressing against Aziraphale's belly, the soft flesh moulding around her figure. Of course Aziraphale's touches changed Crowley's body too, but it was more noticeable, this way, and Aziraphale rather loved it.

That was enough of that metaphor, though; Crowley was waking up. Well, coming to. Easing out of the deepest part of the afterglow.

Stirring in her arms, certainly. She made a soft noise, and Aziraphale rubbed her back a little harder. “It's all right, dearest. I'm right here. I can go get water, or a cup of tea, in a moment. Just need you to be a little more awake first.”

Crowley smiled, her eyes still closed, lashes fluttering a little. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Wife.” The word always made Crowley shiver in such a wonderful way. “Sweet thing, you look so happy.”

“I am so happy,” Crowley said softly, and opened one golden eye. Some stupid people thought her eyes were malformed. And all right, it meant she had trouble reading or focusing on small things. But Aziraphale thought her eyes, with their elongated pupils, were so beautiful. She'd even started to add them to her embroidery designs, half-hidden, but present if you knew where to look. Crowley hadn't found them yet.

Aziraphale smiled indulgently – she got to spoil so rarely, Crowley usually beat her to it. And all right,  _technically_ she was the pillow princess of the two of them. But she did love to treat her princess like, well – a princess. “Do you want me to get water? Or tea?” She winked. “Or a whiskey?”

Crowley smiled at her, still blissed out. “Not yet. Don't let me go yet.”

“Never, ever, ever,” Aziraphale promised, and hugged her so tightly she squeaked. “Well, not 'til you ask.”

“And even then it's only to go get something to drink,” Crowley murmured, somehow tucking herself even closer. “Aziraphale, I really love you.”

“I know, precious.” Aziraphale touched her cheek. She kept her nails trimmed short – well sometimes Crowley was _busy_ of an afternoon – but turned her hand over to run the tip of her nail over the soft skin, making Crowley smile. “I love you too, with all my heart. I'm so happy you're here with me, and everyone gets to meet you.”

Crowley smiled at this. “'m lucky you let me tag along.”

“Oh no, demoness. You don't tag along,” Aziraphale said, nipping this firmly in the bud. “You're my wife, not to mention my best friend. My full and fair partner. It's only right that you get to meet the people who love me, and give them a chance to love you just as much.”

Crowley giggled. “It's worked out well so far.”

“Says the lady who gets first dibs on Asha-snuggles these days,” Aziraphale teased. 

“You get kisses from both of us, don't be greedy,” Crowley teased right back, and they laughed and kissed, and teased some more until Crowley could stand to be let go of, if it meant a pot of strong, milky tea could be had just a few minutes later.

The rest of the afternoon was mostly naked tea-drinking in bed, and Aziraphale reading aloud to them while Crowley's head rested in her lap. (And if Crowley turned over to get her tongue into some interesting places, and temporarily interrupt the reading, well, no one was complaining.) It was a blissful time of soft sunshine and softer touches, culminating in finally –  _finally_ – dressing each other again to have a pub dinner, and a nightcap at home with Madame, who had taken the evening off and was quite pleased to have some company.

The next day was just as sweet; slower, with no market to visit, but they packed a little lunch and Aziraphale took them roaming the prairie, and they made love in the shade of a cottonwood tree, their easy, precious bodies rolling and rubbing together. Nothing fancy; just loving each other and each others' bodies and the bliss of being alive in a field of flowers and tall grasses. Crowley had been right, Aziraphale lying naked on her back in the sunshine was the most beautiful thing she could imagine. Her great strong girl looked like the Harvest Queen as she got herself off, hand between her thighs, moaning and rocking and then, always the most delicious part, all her soft bits quivering as she came.

It was a sight worth committing to memory, which Crowley did – right before diving in and kissing Aziraphale's breasts, openmouthed and wet, suckling and making her moan so sweetly.

They lingered on the prairie until the sun dipped low, and walked home together in the golden light, glad they'd had such a sweet day. Crowley did what she could to treat Aziraphale; a good supper with Madame and a glass of wine in the garden, her shoes off and feet in Crowley's lap, getting a proper massage. They'd have to go to bed soon, for the next day they were ride to the village of Aziraphale's birth.

Another reason to give her the sweetest day possible; the journey tomorrow would be long, and their destination was sad, but needed. So Crowley fussed and pampered and cuddled, and they turned in early, Aziraphale falling asleep soft as snow in Crowley's arms, the two of them twined together like they were back in her tiny bed in the Library.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a generalized content warning: this chapter deals pretty intimately with Aziraphale's feelings about belonging, mourning, her own changing self, and her parents. I think it's bittersweet more than sad, but there's some heavy stuff that gets discussed, and there's only so much that can be comforted.
> 
> (Also a warning for the the most minor possible injury!)

They woke before dawn the next morning, or at least Crowley did. She slipped out of bed and into a dressing gown, going down to the kitchen as silently as possible to fix them some coffee and put together a little breakfast to wake her Aziraphale up with.

“Should've guessed you'd be up,” she said cheerfully, when she found Madame in the kitchen, frying up some bacon to add to a laden tray.

“Not going to let my girls head off with nothing more than a roll and some butter,” she said. “Put some jam on the toast, please, Crowley? Bless you, dear.”

It was the work of only a few minutes, but in the fragrant kitchen, in the warm lamplight, Crowley was about as happy as she could ever remember. A princess who had been raised to be king someday, and now she was sat at a battered old table making toast.

She pointedly left two pieces behind for Madame, staring right back when the other woman tried to stare her down, and felt  _very_ victorious as she headed upstairs to wake Aziraphale. They would eat, and dress, and pack a few things for the day, but couldn't dawdle; they had far to go, and even Bentley could only go so quickly, carrying the both of them.

Aziraphale was already stirring as Crowley lit a candle, and she settled on the edge of the bed and shook her gently. “Wake up, love. I have food and coffee for you,” she sing-songed, and Aziraphale smiled and opened her eyes, stretching a little.

“Hullo, sweetheart,” she murmured, and yawned, and stretched, and finally sat up into Crowley's arms for a sleepy cuddle and kiss. Just for a moment, though – they both needed to eat and dress sooner, rather than later.

“You're turning into the early riser,” she teased around her second slice of toast.

“It's all this good country air,” Crowley said. “When we're back in our depraved un-farm-like castle life I shall return to the spoiled, sleep-late Princess you know and, inexplicably, love.”

Aziraphale went all soppy, of  _course_ . Crowley was going to have to learn to watch what she said, letting out those little bits of truth and getting a soft kiss and a caress on her cheek, before Aziraphale rose and began to dress for the day.

“Although good grief, we're hardly in the centre of a bustling metropolis in Terra,” she pointed out, lacing herself into soft jumps. “I can see the sheep grazing from my bedroom window. _And_ yours.”

Crowley grinned. “Details. I'm a spoilt Princess disconnected from real life in every way even  _in_ our very rural castle.”

“Yes dear, whatever you like to tell yourself,” Aziraphale said, syrup-sweet. She was braiding her hair back in plaits, and in her simple grey riding dress, looked soft and sweet and pale, like some kind of winter goddess.

Crowley reflected that she was, perhaps, a little bit smitten. She copied Aziraphale's hair, though, liking the practicality and the pretty of it.

They insisted on doing the breakfast dishes, and just barely got them eked out before Madame almost literally threw them out with kisses for both of them and a long, tender hug for Aziraphale.

“That's the nicest I've ever been bounced from a place,” Crowley commented as they walked to the pub stables, hand-in-hand as the sun rose and the frosty morning began to give way to warmer day. 

“Oh, that's a good story for the road,” Aziraphale teased. “At least, if it's anything other than the fifty times Mrs Moonchild's had to evict you from someplace soft.”

“Or the fifty times she's evicted _both_ of us,” Crowley teased back, and Aziraphale blushed. As she'd been folded into castle life – and all right, be honest, begun to heal from the horrible treatment at Heaven's Court such that she didn't flinch and cower if someone so much as looked at her sideways – she hadn't been quite so indulged, and had definitely been firmly tossed out of the linens room where she and Crowley had been canoodling on the pile of down quilts.

(They weren't having  _sex_ , just. Enthusiastically admiring one another. Fully-clothed even! Honestly, they should have been given awards.)

Memories of lots of soft and warm things – and Mrs Moonchild topping up her comforter pile on a particularly icy day – drove Aziraphale to wrap her arm around Crowley's waist for the last few meters, until a yawning stablehand was bringing Bentley out to them, and at last they could set off. Crowley up first, and then Aziraphale swinging up behind her, her warm body pressed all along Crowley's back, her arms loose around Crowley's waist as they set off, heading to the deepest part of the prairie, the southern border of the kingdom.

They were quiet for the first few hours, both of them still waking up a bit, and simply wanting nothing more than to quietly watch the world around them as the sun rose higher. There were scattered, thick clouds overhead, alternately setting them in sun and shade. The landscape didn't change; even the distant mountains were so distant that nothing really transformed as they drew away from them, and towards the wide disk of grass and bowl of blue sky above them.

“How are you, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, after they'd stopped for a snack and a wee and to stretch their legs. There wasn't a tree in sight, or any other sign of life beyond the infinite grasslands.

“Strange,” Crowley admitted. “I love it here, but I also feel like my soul's been pinned up on display.”

Aziraphale smiled. “God's certainly not going to lose you in a crowd here,” she agreed, and kissed Crowley's cheek. “The prairie's unsettling sometimes. If you're not used to it. There's stories about people going shack-wacky in winter, when you can't go visiting and everything's just snow.”

Crowley looked around and shivered. “I'll believe it. How did you not go mad?”

“Born to it, I suppose,” Aziraphale said, looking up at the infinite sky. “It's funny. I was fine as a child. But I came to visit about halfway through my time at Heaven's Court, and had a screaming panic attack at all the space.” She was a quiet a moment. “No hiding out here,” she tried to explain. “Everything I hated about myself – was taught to hate – was on display, and there was no one to pretend for but it was like...I was bare. And found wanting by God themself.”

Crowley gave a low whistle. “Oh, dove. No way to respond to that  _but_ with a panic attack.” She reached over and rubbed Aziraphale's back. “You okay now?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “I'm sad. I want to do this, but I'm sad at the same time. I miss living out here, but I wouldn't be happy anymore, and  _that_ makes me sad. I've changed too much to be a farm girl.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said slowly. “Question.”  
“Answer forthcoming,” she said, smiling. Their little joke.

“Have you ever taken time to mourn the little girl who _did_ die that night?”

Aziraphale startled, and stared at her, licked her lips and stared some more.

“Baby?” Crowley asked gently.

“You're too perceptive and I don't like it _one bit_ ,” Aziraphale said, and sighed, and rubbed her eyes. “Yes. I've cried over her so much. Crowley, dearest heart, how do you think I could survive and not mourn that innocent child, and her unharmed body?”

“You're strong as fuck and I know you,” Crowley said simply. “But good. I'm glad. I'm sorry.”

Aziraphale smiled and leaned into her. “Thank you. I am too. I do love you, you know.”

“You only tell me five hundred times a day,” Crowley teased. “That's not a complaint.” She hugged her Aziraphale, and rubbed her back. “I love who you became. I'm sorry you're sad to be here. I...I don't know what you're going through,” she admitted. “But I love you so much and so hard. I'm here for anything you need or, um, if you need to be alone. I understand.”

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale snuggled up to her. “Thank you. But I find that the times I want to be alone, without you, are...vanishingly few.”

“I'm losing my touch,” Crowley joked, but she was smiling, small and soft and sweet. She was _so loved_! What the hell! No one was supposed to love her, people barely tolerated her half the time, but look at this! A whole gorgeous woman, smart and fit and clever and so, so wonderful, and _she loved Crowley_. This was a miracle she'd never take for granted.

Aziraphale grinned and pinched her, then kissed to make up for it. “Oh, Crowley. I'm so glad you're here with me. You make me smile.”

“Good,” Crowley said, and kissed her back. “Although you're allowed to be sad too, angel-girl. Just so you know.”

“I know,” she promised, and went into Crowley's arms for one last little cuddle before they had to remount and continue on their way.

They were a little more talkative this time, Aziraphale's hands now resting on Crowley's thighs, giving an occasional little massage while she pointed out interesting things – birds playing among a particularly thick stand of wildflowers, or a pretty lake fringed with trees.

“Does any of this look familiar?” Crowley asked. It was getting on toward midday, so they had to be fairly close, she was pretty sure.

“Yes, actually!” Aziraphale laughed and pointed. “See the lake over there, off in the distance? You can see the sun glinting off of it.”

Crowley shaded her eyes and squinted, and she did spot a distant gleam. “Yeah, I think so?”

“I used to ice skate there in winter,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley actually turned around in the saddle to side-eye her.

“Oh for goodness' sake, you know I'm not _really_ clumsy,” Aziraphale grumbled. “I just have bad luck. And nothing more than a bruise when I was little, I'll have you know.”

Crowley snickered, and got a pinch on her hip. “Whatever you say, angel.”

“I refuse to be your delicate romance heroine,” Aziraphale said. “I'd have to be delicate, to start.”

“True. And instead you're my delectable farm girl,” Crowley said dreamily, awash with memories of Aziraphale holding her down with remarkable strength, or her biting Aziraphale's tummy and breasts and bum. Her angel _did_ seem to wind up in the infirmary an awful lot, but delicate she was not. Thank heavens.

Aziraphale pinched her again, probably fully aware of where Crowley's thoughts were wandering. Well, let her pinch, her thighs surrounded Crowley's, nothing could be bad in the world.

Aziraphale pointed out a few more things she recognized, but the prairie really _was_ featureless – or, rather, it didn't have things like forests or changing mountains, or lots of lakes or anything worth pointing out as a landmark. It was breathtakingly alive with dry grasses and wildflowers, birds dancing and calling to one another and the endless sky wheeling overhead. Aziraphale taught her the names for the birds and hugged her close, and Crowley knew this would be one of those golden memories she'd hold til the day she died. Maybe this was what heaven was like – even with the whole horseback thing. Being here in this breathtaking, breathless place, full of life and things to learn and look at, with the woman who was her whole heart and half of her soul.

“Can we stop and take a quick break?” she asked, starting to feel a little dizzy with it all.

“Of course, love,” Aziraphale murmured in her ear. They could drink some water and Crowley could catch her breath and maybe get in a few kisses, and it wasn't much longer, not really.

Or Aziraphale could dismount, take two steps, and trip over a gopher hole, landing in a graceless pile right under Bentley's nose.

“Shut up,” she said.

“ _Really_ angel?” Crowley asked.

“I am not your delicate heroine,” Aziraphale said and sat up and groaned. “Ow.”

This was concerning – Crowley swung down and went to tend her, but found only a sore wrist where she'd landed most of her weight on it.

“It'll be fine in a few hours,” Aziraphale sighed. “I won't even have a bruise on my bum, as thick as this grass is.”

“I'll still kiss it better later,” Crowley promised, and grinned when she got swatted. And since they were on the ground anyway, grabbed Aziraphale for a little roll in said grass.

“I love you,” she said, holding herself up with her forearms, gazing down at her pretty angel.

“I know,” Aziraphale said softly. “I love you too, Crowley.” A quiet pause. “I'm not sad,” she said slowly. “Or – I am. But it's not overwhelming, the way it's been before. I don't...know how I feel about that,” she admitted.

Crowley pressed a long kiss to her cheek, and rolled over to lie beside her, taking her hand and gazing up at the great blue sky. Sometimes it was easier when they weren't looking right at each other, but knew the other was there. “It doesn't mean you love anything, or anyone, any the less,” she said softly.

“I know,” Aziraphale said. “Honey, I love you.”

“But shut up?” Crowley finished for her with a smile.

“Well, not in those words.” Aziraphale was quiet a moment. “I can't ever tell you to shut up, not really. Tell me your heart when we're back on the horse. I need to be quiet and talk to the sky a little bit now.”

Crowley squeezed her hand and was quiet and as still as she could be. Which wasn't _very_ , but she got pretty close.

“I miss the sadness,” Aziraphale finally said. “I thought that was who I was. But I'm more than that. Something filled that hole in my soul. Or grew over it, I guess. I've changed so much. But I'm still me. I won't lie under prairie when I die, and that's all right. But I need to be a little sad over that, I think, the way I was very sad over the part of me who died in the mud, bleeding out. I'm still going to endure,” she mused. “But the prairie child is receding, giving more and more way to the Librarian of Terra, the Princess Crowley's wife, the me who is learning to not be afraid.”

She was quiet for a long time then, and Crowley's eyes ached with the blue of the sky and the way she felt pinned to the earth. She loved the prairie, but it was the kind of place where you could die and not even notice it, she guessed, and was glad they'd go back to town that night, and then take to the road back home in a few more days.

Aziraphale rolled over and into Crowley's arms and kissed her cheek. “Are you okay?”

“I'm _fine_ angel,” Crowley assured her softly. “Promise. Ready to go again?”

Aziraphale nodded, smiling shyly. “I'm sorry. If I'm...difficult.”

“You're not,” Crowley said, pulling her into a little cuddle. “And if you were, you wouldn't need to apologize about it. Not to _me_ , anyway.” She gave her a little squeeze. “I love you. C'mon, I'm starting to get hungry.”

Aziraphale smiled and helped her onto Bentley, then swung up behind her, as easy as ever. Crowley still reached for Aziraphale's arms and drew them around her waist, so she could cradle the one that was a little sore, her hand gently wrapping around the soft fabric of Aziraphale's sleeve and holding the joint straight and still.

“Not clumsy,” Aziraphale repeated primly. “Unlucky is all.”

“Uh huh,” Crowley said warmly, and hugged her arm. “Freer than you were. Your body's getting used to it.”

Aziraphale started. “You...may be right, actually,” she admitted. “Huh.”

“'Course I'm right,” Crowley said cheerfully, as Bentley started his steady walk again.

The town came into view soon – well, town might be generous. A collection of buildings, more like; shops and a church and a school, and even a rather decent-looking pub. It was clear the owners lived above or behind their livelihoods, for Crowley didn't see any houses. Everything looked very new; well, that made sense. It wasn't only the farms that had been burned.

Aziraphale hugged Crowley for a moment, then kissed her shoulder. “Well, here we are, love.”

“I like it,” Crowley said, and meant it. The town was sleepy, but nice, and seemed busy enough. She guided them towards the pub, where Bentley could have a rest in the stables, and they could get a bit of lunch.

No one asked their business, though visitors surely weren't common, and Crowley was a little grateful. Aziraphale was her full focus just now, and she didn't fancy trying to chat up some locals in a very new language while fretting.

Not that she had _much_ need to; Aziraphale was calm and seemed happy enough, diving into lunch with real hunger. And good thing, too; it was a lunch meant for farmers, and Crowley was quietly glad that they'd been running around so much lately, and she could do the meal justice.

“Going to get some meat on your bones eventually,” Aziraphale teased softly.

“Good luck,” Crowley said cheerfully, and winked at her, close enough that Aziraphale could see through her glasses.

Aziraphale's smile only grew, and she leaned in close. “Well, when I have you licking chocolate off of me...”

Crowley shivered and laughed, and it was Aziraphale's turn to wink at her, before turning back to the generous plate of stew.

They lingered a little over strong coffee, but it wasn't like there was much to do, and even Crowley didn't feel like chatting or flirting. This was the closest they'd ever get, really, to Aziraphale's childhood home. If the world had gone differently, they'd be staying on the farm, she would have met Aziraphale's parents, this lunch would be a nice jaunt into town, and just a short ride back to bed with a woman who hadn't known war, hadn't been nearly killed, hadn't known such deep sorrow...

Crowley shook herself a little. There was no point in spending too long on might-have-beens; she had reality, and loved a woman who was real and whole and worthy of every bit of love Crowley could give.

They left the pub hand-in-hand and walked slowly down the dirt road that made up the main, and only street.

“Let's pick flowers?” Crowley asked, and blushed. “I want to leave them flowers.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said, turning to her, a little surprised. “We can walk right out onto the prairie, no one'll mind. Come on.” And she turned, pulling Crowley gently behind her as they walked between a dry-goods store and a blacksmith, and onto the wild land.

Aziraphale had a small knife with her, and they traded it back and forth, cutting pretty flowers. Aziraphale selected mostly daisies, while Crowley preferred poppies, and they both picked smaller, less showy flowers in equal measure, until they had small, colourful bouquets got from the land around them.

Crowley added a few stalks of golden wheat and smiled at it. She had some spare ribbons in her pocket, and gave one to Aziraphale so they might add a touch of pretty.

They'd wandered a little ways out onto the autumn-noisy land, and began to walk back to the town, arcing around so they'd return at the church, where the memorial to Aziraphale's parents – and the rest of the dead from the immediate area – was. A vee of geese soared overhead, loudly proclaiming the migration season, and Crowley stopped, entranced as she watched them fly so swiftly overhead, over and past them, cutting through the air and seeming to bring a chill wind with them.

“You really love it here,” Aziraphale said, smiling at her.

“It's breathtaking,” Crowley tried to explain. “Not like anyplace else I've ever been. Er. Not that I'm that well-travelled.” She dropped Aziraphale's hand to fiddle with one of her braids, wishing she could run her hand through her hair. “But. It's special.”

“It is,” Aziraphale said gently. “It makes me glad that you see it.” She caught Crowley's eyes and smiled at her. “I love you, Princess.”

“I love you too, dove. C'mon.” She might be weird and uncultured and uneducated and weird, but Aziraphale loved her, and that was good enough. Crowley took her hand and they walked together, to the back of the church, where the graveyard was and the largest cenotaph in it.

Aziraphale was very quiet as she stood before it. Should she say something? They were dead and gone, who was she saying it to? To God? She didn't care to talk to God about war or her parents. What was there even to _say_? You died, and I didn't, have I done good with the time given to me? Am I worth not dying, when you, _all_ of you, died? Mama, Papa, I'm a Maestra Librarian now. I'm married to a Princess. I love her, and she loves me. She takes care of me, and somehow I make her happy. I am disabled, and traumatized. I've been abused. But I'm still here.

She wiped away a tear, and laid her bouquet down, because there was no way she could speak these words into the universe, they were still too big.

Crowley had gone with her, closer to the cenotaph, and laid her bouquet down too. She found the names of Aziraphale's parents, and touched them.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I'm sorry you can't be here. I would have liked to meet you. I love her. I promise she'll always be safe. She'll always have a place to live, and enough to eat, and people to be kind to her. I promise you, I swear to you both, I will always protect her, and always love her. She's safe now. I hope, wherever you are, you're as happy as she makes me. Because that's got to be Heaven, _really_ Heaven.” She reddened and dipped her head and Aziraphale drew her into an embrace. Her girl who wasn't always good with words – Crowley had laid her heart bare, because she was the bravest woman Aziraphale had ever, ever met.

They held each other a long time, and Aziraphale cried, just a little bit, because she was all cried out, and some things were too big and horrible for tears. But she had Crowley to hold her and rub her back, and adjust her wrap to keep her a little warmer, and it was all right. It was sad, but that was life. There would be joy again, probably sooner than she thought.

Another vee of geese overhead had them both looking up, and Aziraphale laughed, and sniffled, and Crowley wiped the tears from her cheeks and kissed her. “Do you want to walk on the prairie? Lie down a little bit? I'm not tired at all, I can watch over you.”

Aziraphale smiled and shook her head. “I'm fine, dearest. Thank you. Let's go back?”

Crowley smiled at her too, and touched the edges of her eyes, the pretty crow's-feet there. “Of course.” She wrapped an arm around Aziraphale's shoulders and walked her around the church and down the broad road. The clouds overhead had started to really gather, and Crowley hoped it didn't mean rain – or, at least, that the rain would wait til they were home and warm and dry.

She took care of everything at the inn, and felt good about that. Aziraphale should be allowed time to be quiet and sad, and left alone to do so, for that matter. Crowley even managed to get up into the saddle not like a sack of flour, and was happy when Aziraphale snuggled up to her back, arms around her waist again as they set off.

Crowley kept one hand on the wrist that might still be a bit sore, but otherwise they were both quiet and still under the huge sky for the long ride home, surrounded only by the sound of wind and birds until they were nearly back to Madame's house.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads-up: there's a story-within-the-story that mentions spousal abuse, vaguely and in passing.

The next day dawned with a heavy rainstorm, but the two sore travellers found themselves honestly glad for a reason to not do much besides drink tea and read aloud or be read to. Crowley attempted to work on her knitting, but found it so much nicer to lie in bed with her head in Aziraphale's lap, that that's exactly what she did.

“...and so they set off, walking towards the setting sun, for whatever adventures would await them next,” Aziraphale read aloud. “And they were glad and light of heart, for they had each other, and the open country, and the promise of sleeping under the stars for days and days yet to come. The end.” She sighed happily and closed the book, setting it aside. It was their favourite series, about two women who were friends (or 'friends', really) and their endless adventures. Crowley had even made up a few stories about them, although in those, their adventures were firmly limited to a big bed and each other. Aziraphale adored Crowley's stories, and often asked for them if she was feeling poorly. Or if she was feeling well, for that matter.

Today, though, she was perfectly happy to let Crowley rest. Encourage her, rather; poor girl, she'd been riding so much lately, and Bentley was such a big beast. Even Aziraphale's hips rather ached.

She scritched Crowley's scalp around the long braids pinned up, and the woman in her lap all but purred.

“Do you want to re-read _The Scandal of the Queen_ next?” she asked. It was one of their favourites, as it featured a scene where the heroines were forced to rescue one another and escape into the night with only a blanket for protection against the elements, and also they were both naked for important plot-related reasons. And when they found an inn that had a spare room, they were still naked. For important plot-related reasons. And of course the room only had _one bed_ , and Eleanor, the more delicate one, needed to be warmed up in a hurry, and caught a terrible illness which Yvaine nursed her through.

Right, they were re-reading that _soon,_ with any luck sparking Crowley's considerable imagination. To say nothing of having their traditional fight over whose turn it was to be Eleanor and who got to be Yvaine when they recreated the dramatic scene where Yvaine used her own body heat to warm the other woman up.

Crowley smiled and stretched a little. “'Course, always up for that one.” She yawned and kissed Aziraphale's belly. “Is there any more tea?”

Aziraphale tested the pot, and pouted. “No, sorry love. Snuggle up to a pillow and I'll go make us some.”

“I can do it,” Crowley said, not moving a single inch.

“Sure about that?” Aziraphale teased.

“Well I would, if I wasn't weak from lack of tea,” Crowley decided, curling up more firmly to her very soft and squishy and yummy love.

“My heart breaks for you,” Aziraphale said in monotone, and not _very_ gently shoved Crowley over. “I'll go make a fresh pot, so that you might regain your strength.”

“You're such a nice wife,” Crowley sighed, curling around a pillow. Aziraphale was limping badly with the rain, but swore she wasn't in any real pain, so there was no point in fussing. She was perfectly able to run down to the kitchen, and then back up, after all.

She came back not only with tea, but with some lovely fudge that Madame had turned up from somewhere, and they feasted and felt very lazy and holiday-ish. Crowley was back in Aziraphale's lap, sitting up to drink her tea, but head still on her shoulder, groaning a little when she moved and an over-used muscle complained.

“Poor love,” Aziraphale said, and even meant it, and she stroked the soft baby-hairs at Crowley's neck, and kissed her forehead, and Crowley felt hopelessly spoiled.

“How's your wrist?” she murmured, eyes half-closed in pleasure, looking and feeling not unlike a beloved pet cat.

“It's fine, you silly thing.” Crowley had insisted she wrap it for at least the day when they woke up and it was very slightly puffy when compared to her other wrist. Aziraphale hadn't favoured it at all, though, so Crowley wasn't minded to fuss. Well, not too much.

“Good.” She kissed Aziraphale's throat, and nuzzled there. “I love you. Rest your voice awhile, all right? You've been reading for hours.”

“Hardly, but I will rest, thank you.” Warm with amusement, Aziraphale's voice was smooth and it felt good on Crowley's ears, she decided. And also decided she was going doolally with love, which was honestly fine.

“How's your heart?” she asked again, softly, after they'd snuggled a little longer and empty mugs were set aside.

“Sore. Glad you're here,” Aziraphale said simply. “Turning over what we did yesterday.”

Crowley nodded, and didn't ask further. This was Aziraphale's to share or not – Crowley just wanted to make sure she wasn't hurting unduly, when she had a wife _right here_ who would do anything to ease her.

They lay down together and simply cuddled, not interested in more than a few soft kisses for the moment, sore legs stretching with groans and giggles. Crowley kissed the soft little bandage around Aziraphale's wrist, and Aziraphale pressed the sore place on Crowley's bum, where her sitz bones had almost worn through her skin it felt like. When she released, the sensation made Crowley groan with joy, her aches easing a little more.

“Do you want a story about Eleanor and Yvaine?” she asked, after the rain picked up and the room was filled with the smells of a wet autumn. It was a day _tailor-made_ to be lazy and drink tea and love each other in a million different ways.

Azirpahale lit up. “Oh, please? The one about what happened after the battle of Hartshorn?” That was her particular favourite, chock-full of the two of them tenderly caring for each others' hurts – mostly minor, and in attractive places, of course – and making love in creative ways. Crowley's imagination was _amazing_.

“If you like. But I've got a new one, too. You know how in _The Adventure of the Ruby Heart_ we learn how they met?” she asked.

Aziraphale actually cooed, she was so delighted. “Yes! But there's not nearly enough detail!”

Crowley grinned. “There is now. Settle down like a good girl, and I'll tell you your story,” she teased, and they snuggled together, warm and cosy as the rainstorm raged outside, and Crowley started her tale.

“Eleanor was sick and tired of being a farmer's wife, especially _this_ farmer's wife. He was a beast to her. Of course, men beat women, that was all she'd known; her father had beaten her mother. But this was beyond that, she was pretty sure. Beyond what rule a man had over a woman – but it didn't matter. As he'd stood over her, raising the heavy stick again, he had turned an interesting colour and collapsed. And that was how she'd become, in an instant, a farmer's widow, and a free woman...”

Crowley continued to weave the story while Aziraphale listened, tears in her eyes at first at the description of poor Eleanor, hurt in body and terrified in mind. Of how she'd sold off the farm and taken the money and just started walking, not even sure of what she would do next. And how she met Yvaine, a shepherd's daughter, when she had more or less accidentally saved her from wolves. They travelled together, and became friends quickly – and more than that, at least in their hearts.

“Yvaine closed the door and sighed in relief. They were safe in the inn, and Eleanor could rest. They would stay until the last of her terrible bruises faded; Yvaine would make sure of it.

“She turned to her friend – oh, she wanted so much more than friendship. Her body ached when she _saw_ Eleanor, let alone when they brushed against each other or, the best of all, when Eleanor touched her shoulder or her hand. She was the most beautiful woman Yvaine had ever seen, and it was impossible that she could ever return Yvaine's feelings.

“She sat on the bed beside her friend, shaking a little at her own boldness, but Eleanor just smiled at her, and dropped her gaze. She licked her lips, and reached for Yvaine's hand.

“'My dear,' she said softly, and Yvaine's heart stopped – just as one of the inn's servants came in the door with supper for them both,” Crowley said. “The end, I need more tea. And cake.”

Aziraphale screamed and threw a pillow at her instead.

Crowley didn't budge, though, until she'd got her tea and cake, although Aziraphale refused to kiss her, calling her an absolute beast of a woman.

“You _know_ you love a little pining,” Crowley said, fluttering her eyelashes.

“Crowley, it takes longer to make sourdough bread than it did for us to get together. I do _not_ like pining,” Aziraphale grumped.

“You're exaggerating a _bit_ ,” Crowley pointed out.

“Not really,” Aziraphale said, and pinched her tummy. “Tell me more of the story!”

Crowley laughed and gathered Aziraphale close, their tea done with for now and loving her grumpy, pouty Maestra.

“After they'd eaten,” she continued, “Yvaine settled next to Eleanor again, close but not touching. This brave woman had been through so much – she'd die before doing something that might make her feel unsafe...”

Aziraphale squeezed Crowley in a hug, recognising the themes from their own courtship – of Crowley being so gentle with her, so careful in making sure she had a safe place to begin to recover from her abuses. Tears sprang into her eyes when Eleanor confessed how badly she'd been beaten, and she wept openly when Yvaine went out into the pouring rain to get her necessary medicines, coming back soaked and shivering.

It took two more false tries – both accompanied by Aziraphale screaming and thwacking Crowley with a pillow – but soon, at last: the _kiss_!

And more than, and Crowley was very happy to demonstrate exactly what she meant when Eleanor unbuttoned Yvaine's gown to the waist, then unlaced her shift to reveal her breasts, which were duly kissed and caressed and suckled. Aziraphale was lazy and sweet and moaned readily, especially when Crowley's hand was between her legs, and she whispered just what Yvaine did with her face between Eleanor's thighs.

“...and, exhausted but blissfully happy, they held each other and fell asleep under the soft blankets, knowing they'd found not only a fierce friend in one another, but a beloved, someone to face down the world with. Yvaine was so happy she glowed in the firelight, and Eleanor was struck by how _unafraid_ she was. Yvaine would be angry with her someday; it was the way of people. But she would never beat Eleanor, or insult her, or be cruel for the joy of it. She might sometimes be afraid again, and doubt these things, but in that moment, her cunny still wet and her Yvaine asleep with her head resting on Eleanor's breast, she knew she was safe, and loved,” Crowley finished, her voice soft and easy, her own Aziraphale mirroring Yvaine's pose on Crowley's chest, a single tear trickling down her cheek.

“That was...oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale sniffled and wiped her cheek. “I feel like that when I'm with you. I know I still doubt it sometimes, and it's got to get annoying, but I feel so safe. I really do, I promise.”

“Shhh, angel. I know,” Crowley comforted. “And it's not annoying. You're unlearning so many hurts, my poor girl. You're so strong, you take my breath away.” A soft touch to her hair. “I don't...it's hard to talk about. But it took me a really long time to feel safe in Terra too.”

“ _Crowley_.” Aziraphale hugged her tightly, rolling over to fully bury her face in Crowley's chest for the moment. “My poor princess. I wish you never had to understand how it feels.”

“Shh, now. What's done is done. Oh, you sweet thing,” Crowley teased, and hugged her, and they cuddled sweetly, kissing now and again, both of them resting their voices and Aziraphale enjoying a very nice afterglow.

The next day dawned without rain, and a long lie-in with lots of soft, sleepy kisses, and a definite amount of teasing from Madame when they finally appeared for a _very_ late breakfast.

“I got used to not travelling,” Aziraphale protested, while Crowley discreetly sat in the chair with the most padding. “That first year in a place spoils one.”

“Of course, dear,” Madame said, and patted her head. “You have nothing keeping you in bed but your own sloth.”

“...I didn't say _that_ ,” Azirpahale grumbled, while Crowley turned red. Madame was a sex worker, so this was basically talking shop for her but still! A lady liked to keep _some_ things private!

Madame smiled at her, though, and topped up her coffee. “There's a lass telling fortunes at the pub today. You ought to go and see her.”

“Are you going?” Aziraphale asked.

“Good heavens, what would I want to know about my future?” Madame grinned at them. “Besides, I'm seeing clients all afternoon.”

“I'll leave a pot of tea at your door at three,” Aziraphale promised, and explained for Crowley. “It was one of the things I could actually do for her, when I was here – once I was up and about even a little.” Her smile grew, remembering. “Just a little mid-afternoon pick-me-up, but it was so nice to be able to make a pot of tea.”

“And my throat _does_ get so dry,” Madame said, patting her hand. “You are a good girl.”

Aziraphale blushed and looked down. “Thank you,” she said softly, smiling at her lap, while Crowley essentially died from how sweet this all was.

“Let's you and me get our fortunes told,” Crowley said once she'd recovered. “Might be fun. And we can get lunch at the same time.”

“Done and done,” Aziraphale said cheerfully. “Time for a quick ramble, too, if we like. If the rain holds off, anyway.”

Immediately, a downpour began.

“...or not,” Aziraphale said dryly, while Crowley nearly fell out of her chair laughing.

“There's parasols by the front door,” Madame sighed, while Aziraphale made a face at the window and Crowley gasped for breath.

They lingered over the breakfast table, chatting happily with Madame and simply having some time together. Crowley made a mental note to gently make herself scarce a bit more often – Aziraphale might insist she was always welcome, but she deserved time alone with Madame, and Madame with her. Besides, she liked exploring on her own, and thought a ramble out to the bluff again wouldn't go awry.

The rain utterly failed to let up, so they gave up, put on cloaks, and went out into the deluge. At least it was a short walk – and thankfully a private one, since Aziraphale insisted on holding a parasol for both of them, and it was a powerful reminder of how they'd met and Crowley had to hide how she melted in a soft kiss laid on the knuckles of Aziraphale's free hand. (Unbandaged – and of course Aziraphale had teased her about fretting over the lightest sprain imaginable, and of course Crowley blithely ignored said teasing.)

They had a long lunch, mostly spent by Crowley flirting outrageously with Michael, who flirted back just as outrageously, ending with throwing her over one shoulder and starting to take her back to the storeroom while she yelped and wriggled and laughed, and Aziraphale sipped her beer, a look of pure peace and relaxation on her face.

“He's stealing me!” Crowley announced, finding herself rather comfortable over his shoulder.

“Yes, dear,” Aziraphale said.

“You'd really return to Auntie and Uncle without me?” Crowley pouted.

“Yes, dear,” Aziraphale said.

“They'd give you a medal, I reckon,” Michael said, and Crowley squawked with outrage, and turned brilliant red as he let her down and smooched her forehead.

They visited a bit longer, until the fortuneteller – a woman by name of Anathema – was ready to set up shop again. She'd taken over a back room, and Crowley and Aziraphale went in together, hand-in-hand of course, and paid their money.

She was olive-skinned and dark-haired and rather pretty, with big round glasses and a serious demeanour.

“Oh,” she said after one look at both of them. “Entwined souls. You get a special for that.”

“We...do?” Aziraphale asked. Well, one didn't turn down a bargain.

“You do,” she said, shuffling a deck of cards. “Most people only get one question. You can each ask me one thing about your own future, and one thing about the other's future. Since you're entwined.”

Crowley blinked, and put an arm around Aziraphale's shoulders, pulling her a little closer. “So does that mean we'll always...” she caught herself, and shook her head. “No, never mind, not my question.”

Anathema smiled at her. “Wise. You go first. Shuffle the deck and cut it,” she said, pushing the cards across the table. They were battered old bits of cardboard, with smudged pictures, each one different. Not like playing cards at all.

Crowley did as she was told, and picked which half of the deck she wanted when asked. Anathema stacked that on top, and put her fingers over the top card. “What's your question about her?”

Crowley looked over at Aziraphale, and touched her hair. “What you see – is it writ in stone, or can it be changed?”

“The latter.” Anathema smiled at them. “Take your time. Questions are important.”

“The most important,” Crowley said softly, while Aziraphale looked over at her, her eyes soft and gentle, no warning. She trusted Crowley to only ask good things.

“Will she always be safe?” Crowley asked softly.

Anathema turned over three cards and glanced at them. “No,” she said, and held up a hand when Crowley tensed. “Not perfectly safe. But she will be safe enough. Not like she was...” she squinted at one of the pictures. “Oh, you poor thing. Not unsafe like she was here. No more wars, nothing like that.”

Crowley breathed in relief, and kissed the top of Aziraphale's head. “My love.”

“And your question for yourself, Princess?”

Crowley wasn't even surprised that this Anathema knew who she was. And she _knew_ it wasn't because Michael had warned her, or some trick like that.

“Will I ever go back to Annwn?”

Anathema flipped over three more cards, looked at them for a moment, and looked up at Crowley. “Yes, you will. I mean, not to live, never again live there. But you'll go back someday.”

“Oh,” Crowley said, and breathed out, ignoring Aziraphale's concerned look for a moment. She'd explain later. Once she figured out how this made her feel.

Then it was Aziraphale's turn to shuffle the cards and cut the deck, and ask her question. She looked at Crowley for a long time, and stroked her hair – a long braid, holidays were no time to get fancy with hairdos – and kissed her shoulder.

“Will she ever truly, fully understand how much I love her?” she finally asked Anathema.

Anathema turned over three cards, touched one, and smiled. “Yes. She'll know what she means to you someday. I promise.”

Aziraphale lit up at that, and hugged Crowley tightly. “Good.”

“And your question for yourself?”

Aziraphale was quiet for a long time again. “My...injuries. The old ones. Will they, um. Get worse?”

Anathema turned over three cards slowly, and sighed. “Yes, Maestra. It will take decades, but yes, you will...lose strength, lost mobility. Beyond even your bad days now.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Thank you, dear,” she said gently. “I had thought that might be so.”

Anathema smiled at her. “If it helps, you will be beloved and happy, and still have adventures and all kinds of fun.”

“I know,” Aziraphale said simply, and smiled over at Crowley. “This one will make sure of it.”

“Forever,” Crowley said, and cupped her face in her hands, and kissed her. “If I have to carry you myself.”

Aziraphale smiled at her, dazzling in the dim lighting. “Silly girl, I don't think it has to come to that.” She squeezed Crowley's hand, and bowed lightly to Anathema. “Thank you. Very much.”

“You're welcome,” Anathema said. Not bored, exactly, but no longer interested in them. Polite, but the warmth and care of the reading had faded. Crowley reckoned if she carried all the people whose lives she's seen around in her heart, it would be impossible to bear, and didn't grudge her the sudden coolness.

“Can we order something for you?” Aziraphale asked Anathema. “A drink, or something to eat?”

Anathema looked up at that, genuinely surprised, and smiling. “No, thank you. I'm quite well looked-after. Please, go enjoy yourselves. You are so in love. It's nice to be around.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said politely, and they bid her goodbye, and if Crowley left a little more money behind, no one needed to bring attention to it.

They both needed a moment to think and breathe and turn over the fortunes they'd been told. There was no _question_ that they were true. It was...self-evident, somehow. They had learned something of their futures; good things and bad things.

They had another drink while they turned the fortunes over, nursing their ales while the rain continued to fall outside.

“Did you notice that she didn't really read the cards?” Aziraphale finally asked.

Crowley nodded. “They were for show. She just...knew.”

Aziraphale smiled at her. “We've got forever, you and me.”

“And someday I might be able to take you to my...place of birth,” Crowley said carefully.

“Only if you want to,” Aziraphale said gently. “We'll have so many adventures together, sweetheart.”

Crowley smiled at her and reached over the table to squeeze her hand. “I can't wait,” she said, and meant it.

Decent weather held for the next two days, and Crowley was free to roam the town (which took about ten minutes) and the prairie (considerably longer, though she carefully kept town in sight, not wanting to get lost out in this featureless expanse). She escaped a few times to give Aziraphale and Madame time together, and found herself escaped by her tricksy angel and spent a _wonderful_ afternoon first sitting in on one of Madame's seances (better than travelling players, easily, she reckoned), and then having an absolutely delightful time with her new mother-in-law, telling her the best gossip of the court and in turn hearing the best gossip of the town. To say nothing of the funny little stories about Aziraphale.

“Of course she told me she was a lesbian about as soon as she came to,” Madame said. “It was ever so sweet, Crowley, I don't mind telling you. She wasn't quite ready to chase girls when I sent her off, but no lass of mine was going out into the world without a good talk about the birds and the bees. Or, in her case, I s'pose, the birds and the birds.”

Crowley laughed out loud. “I didn't know she always knew,” she said warmly.

“What about you then, Princess?” Madame asked.

“About being a lesbian or, well, being a _lesbian_?” Crowley asked in return. “And oh, let me top up your tea, Madame.” She did not reach for the teapot, but for a rather different bottle that Madame had pulled out about the second the last guest had left.

“Oh, go on then,” Madame said, pushing her cup across the table. “More than that, please,” she added, after Crowley's first pour.

Crowley laughed and topped them both up.

“And to answer your question – well, either,” Madame said, and smiled softly at her. “Aziraphale told me all about you, sweetheart, but I don't want to pry where it might hurt.”

“It's all right,” Crowley said, feeling warm and loved and all right perhaps a _bit_ tipsy. “The problem was never...me, really. It was the people around me.”

“ _Quite_ right,” Madame said, and patted her hand. “Such a nice, wise woman you are.”

Crowley laughed out loud. “Hardly that, just ask Aziraphale. Or anyone, for that matter.” She grinned, and sipped her tea. Well, mostly tea. Partially tea. “I always knew I was a girl, pretty much from the moment I knew what a girl _was_. Of course I was raised as a prince, intended to be king. My parents are, um. Very dedicated to...looking right. Acting a certain way. Sometimes I wonder if they weren't so hidebound...”

She shook herself. “Well, anyway. I started to dress as a woman when I was fourteen. In private, mostly, though my parents found out when I tried to live as a woman – well, girl still, then – outside of my rooms. It wasn't...good.” Crowley smiled at Madame a little. “They weren't going to win any parenting awards anyway, so this was almost an excuse to kick me out. I wouldn't have been a very good king at all, and wouldn't have ruled as they expected.”

“My poor girl,” Madame said gently. “I can't speak to what kind of king – or queen – you might be. But you're a wonderful daughter-in-law, and I hope going to become a friend as well.”

Crowley smiled at her. “I hope so too. Oh! Has Aziraphale warned you that I can't read or write much? Directly, I mean.”

Madame nodded. “Of course, I know she is your eyes and pen, so to speak.”

“Oh, I like that,” Crowley said softly. “What a wonderful way to think of it.” There were days, rare ones, when Crowley was Aziraphale's legs, running through stacks to get books for her when it was so much more comfortable for her to sit by the fire. It felt good to know they could help each other so much.

She sipped her tea again, and took up her story once more. “I was shipped off to Terra when it became impossible to stay. It wasn't...safe for me, and Auntie and Uncle were happy to take me. So I came there, and chose a new name, and began to live as a girl. I really _was_ a girl, not more than sixteen. And to answer the other half of your question, I knew I quite liked girls about the usual time, and then I just, well, _kept_ liking girls, even after I was one.” Crowley smiled, gazing out the kitchen window and remembering. “I'm not as, ah, experienced as Aziraphale is --”

“Who is?” Madame asked dryly. “Speaking professionally.”

Crowley roared with laughter. “Honestly, that school...”

Madame rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I thought I was sending her for an education, Crowley! In books,” she added, after a second thought.

“She got that too,” Crowley pointed out. “Somehow. Did the girl sleep for a few years there?”

“No,” Madame said dryly. “Not as far as I can tell.”

Crowley sighed and shook her head. “Well, anyway. I'm a bit....me?” she tried, and Madame, bless her, nodded.

“Even if you had a different body?” she offered. “Crowley, I understand. I'm rather exceptionally _me_ , too. And I'm doubly glad you have Aziraphale, then. You deserve someone who adores you.”

Crowley went scarlet and sputtered a bit, then took refuge in spilling the guts of her personal history to a woman she'd only met a few days ago. It made her heart squeeze less. “So, uh, right, yes. I guess in a sense...I always knew I was a girl, or a woman, but the distinct lesbian identity hit right around fourteen, when I started putting on a dress and still very much wanted to kiss other girls.”

Madame smiled and patted her hand. “My dear girl. I'm glad you found a place to be safe.”

“Me too,” Crowley said softly, deliberately not remembering. Some things were best left unexamined, when they'd only reveal, even more deeply, how much she was despised. She'd never see those people again, and here she was with a wife who adored her body – sometimes really _very_ loudly – and a patchwork family who loved her. That was more than a lot of people got, and she wasn't going to to forget that for a second.

“You know so much about me,” she said suddenly. “And I hardly know you at all. Will you tell me about your life? How did you wind up doing...all this?”

Madame smiled, and topped up their 'tea' again. “Oh, it's quite a good story, if I say so myself...”

When Aziraphale came home that night to find her wife and her Madame quite thoroughly drunk together, she certainly pretended at being annoyed, but couldn't hide, really, how charmed she was. Even as she basically carried them each off to bed. And had _zero_ sympathy for when they both woke with aching heads.

The next two days followed roughly that form; people in and out of the house, meals taken together, significantly fewer drinks though, and with plenty of fresh air and rambles and prairie skies for Aziraphale in particular. (And another afternoon lying in the grass naked, Crowley between her legs and gently, wonderfully, bringing her to orgasm again and again. And then holding her trembling, blissful body while the sun sank in the sky, and she got feeling back in her legs.)

And then it was time to go, after a hearty breakfast in the garden, one of the last really glorious days of autumn, Aziraphale and Madame both guessed. “Winter comes fast,” Aziraphale explained to her, and Crowley shivered a bit, glad they were headed back to less harsh surroundings.

They had packed their things the night before and were perfectly content to carry them to the horses themselves, so Crowley went to get their bags, and give Aziraphale a few moments to say a private goodbye.

She and Madame were laughing and happy when she came down with their things, embracing warmly.

“Write me as soon as you get home,” Madame ordered. “I want to hear what Asha's up to.”

“Promise. I love you.” Aziraphale hugged her warmly. “We'll come visit again soon.”

“Of course you will, dearest,” Madame said, and kissed her cheek. “My good girl.”

“You promise there's nothing else you need?” Aziraphale asked. “Or want, for that matter.”

“Oh, goodness, no.” Madame waved her hand. “You've seen me, perfectly lovely set-up, and I still have my little nest egg when I do want to retire.”

“Still,” Aziraphale said, and kissed her again, and Crowley tried not to hide behind her, caught with a sudden attack of shyness.

“My dear girl,” Madame said, and held out her arms, folding Crowley close to her. “I am so happy we've finally met. Promise you'll write me too?”

“I promise,” Crowley said shyly. “Um. Thank you. For welcoming me.”

“You say that like it's a chore,” Madame scolded, and cupped Crowley's face in her hands. “Oh, you precious thing.”

Crowley bit her lip – it was _Aziraphale_ who was precious, Crowley was just...Crowley.

“I love you very much, and you must write to me, and let my Aziraphale take good care of you,” Madame said. “I know your type. And her type.” She winked. “I won't ask you to take a turn as pillow princess, you'd hate it. But give her every chance to cherish you, all right?”

“All right,” Crowley said, and hugged her tight. “I love you too, Madame.”

She stroked Crowley's hair, and kissed her, and with firm hands pushed them both on their way, refusing to let their parting be sad.

And it wasn't; it really wasn't. There were more kisses and farewells at the pub, but they were happy, cheerful ones, and with a hot lunch added to their packs, they both mounted up and began to make their way to Gaia, where Asha waited for them.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word of warning -- Aziraphale uses the word fat as a negative descriptor, about herself, a few times in this chapter. She's having a bit of a rough time, but is comforted and gently loved and feels a lot better about herself by the end of the chapter.

Their journey started well, with good weather and better roads, a lovely inn to spend the night in and the warm joy of simply travelling together. Crowley really was much better at riding, and found herself actually  _enjoying_ the ride, far more than she would have expected.

However, the last day before they made it to Gaia, everything...well, it's not that it all started to go  _wrong_ , exactly, but it definitely wasn't the autumnal idyll that had had Aziraphale reciting poetry and Crowley picking apples from every tree they passed. 

It all started with the rain, a real presage-of-winter sort of rain that was cold and pounding and started when they were an hour onto the road so they had to pause and dig through bags for cloaks and such, and decide that it was easier to press on to Castle Gaia than turn back.

“Look, I'll be honest,” Azirpahale said, after a gust of wind had dumped what had to be several gallons of water from a tree onto her. “I want a hug and a long soak and a Library at the end of this. I want a _lot_ of hugs.”

“You've earned hugs,” Crowley said grimly, when the road grew muddy and they had to get off and guide the horses, picking their way through what had become a small, fast-flowing stream. Aziraphale slipped and fell, and her grey cloak and gown became absolutely coated in mud. 

Crowley helped Aziraphale to her feet and clasped her hands between her own, glad that while it was certainly cold out, and even more in the rain, her sweetheart's fingers were still warm. “It's not much further. Are you sure you don't want to ride?”

“It'll hurt just as much,” Aziraphale said simply. “And be harder on poor Aster. As you said, it's not much further.” She sighed. “I should be grateful I can still walk at all,” she added bitterly.

“Why? I'm pissed on your behalf that you're having such a hard time,” Crowley pointed out.

This startled a laugh out of Aziraphale, and they started walking again, slow with the rain and the horses picking their way. Though Aziraphale limped badly, she could usually keep going at a good clip, and Crowley quietly hoped that slowing her pace was helping, rather than drawing out the pain.

The road grew smoother and wider, but remained flooded in the incredible downpour, and they were both shivering from a sharp wind, when Castle Gaia finally pulled into view.

They brought the horses into the stables first, of course, and Crowley had to work to uncurl her freezing fingers from around Bentley's reins, while Aziraphale finally straightened up with a groan, after bending to try and avoid the rain on her face.

She looked, Crowley had to admit, pretty awful. Hair only half-pinned up and muddy, plus the strange dishwater colour it turned when wet. She was covered in mud and had a scratch on one cheek from some brambles, to say nothing of looking cold and exhausted. Crowley reckoned she herself probably didn't look much better, though probably with less mud.

“Bath, Maestra,” she decided. “Asha'll have one ready for you, love.”

“And you, Princess,” Aziraphale said with a wan smile. “Then I want my hugs.”

“We'll drown you in cuddles,” Crowley promised and oh, what had she been _thinking_? Aziraphale smiling was never not the most beautiful sight.

She offered Aziraphale her arm and they made their way in, squeezing out their cloaks to try and not drip  _quite_ so much, but there really wasn't much for it but to make their way to the Library.

“You two are mad!” Asha was up and heading for them as soon as Crowley pushed the door open, already shivering hard. Even Aziraphale was shivering, which was strangely terrifying – she ran warm, and if she was getting cold, seriously cold, that was _bad_. “I thought you'd stay the night in Derry for sure!”

“We wanted to make it here,” Crowley admitted, relaxing minimally in the warm library. “Sorry, we're both a mess.”

“Don't you dare apologise, you poor little loves,” Asha clucked. “You're both half-frozen, and Aziraphale did you roll in the mud on purpose?”

Aziraphale laughed and shook her head, and Asha touched her cheek. “My poor dove, you need about seven baths, a whiskey, and a full night's sleep. Oh, your poor hip must be screaming.”

Aziraphale smiled weakly. “Asha, I feel awful.”

“I know, pet,” Asha comforted, while Crowley put an arm around her shoulders, worried now. She had only _just_ promised Aziraphale's parents that she'd take care of their girl, and here she was falling down on the job.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” A woman who had been sitting with Asha rose and began to cross the floor. She was tall and slender, beautifully curved, and wearing a dress to show off her figure. Honey-blonde hair was done up in a coronet of braids, and she had clear blue eyes and a pretty, heart-shaped face, and before she had taken six steps, Crowley recognized her.

“Sasha,” she said numbly.

Her mouth opened, and her face lit up. “Crowley! My God, I can't believe it, oh  _Crowley_ !” She ran the last few feet gracefully, laughing and already reaching out. “Oh my darling, I can't believe it's you.” Without a second thought, she hugged Crowley – lightly, but a real hug. “Now, you and your Maestra must warm up, and we'll get you something to eat, and we can catch up.” She smiled warmly at Aziraphale. “Crowley and I...knew each other, long ago.”

Aziraphale, for just a moment, looked like she was going to commit a murder, when her face simply went blank, exhaustion and her natural politeness coming to the fore. “I know who you are, your Majesty,” she said gently, eyes growing sadder and more exhausted by the word. “Forgive me for my state – a bath and a change of clothes will do wonders. And I am...looking forward to meeting you properly.”

“None of this your majesty business, we're all friends here,” Sasha said briskly. “Asha, you sort them out, I'll talk to Cook? You both must be ravenous, and you must have something to warm you at least.”

“Deal,” Asha said, her expression very, very carefully schooled, although Crowley was _well_ aware she was cackling on the inside. “Both of you into the bathroom, it's at least warmer in there.”

Aziraphale let herself be towed along, faintly daydreaming of catching pneumonia, passing into unconsciousness, then the sweet release of death and never, ever having to see what Crowley had given up for  _her_ ever again.

She bit her lip and told her brain to go bugger off already. She was fat and had a limp and was currently covered in mud and her hair was an unholy mess to say nothing of the rest of her, but Crowley loved her. Even when you took away the cold and the wet, she was still fat and had a limp and hair that wouldn't behave, and Crowley  _still_ loved her. Crowley had picked her out of everyone in the world, and they were best friends, and if she could just hold on, it would be okay. Her mind would stop whispering horrible, cruel things to her.

Asha basically ordered her into a chair by the fire, and Crowley just beside her, the two of them naturally drawing together, trying to share what body heat they had while great kettles heated on the stove and Asha filled the big bathtub – big enough for them to share, thank heavens.

“You're both dumber than rocks, and I'm so happy to see you,” she said. “The Lady Sasha arrived a few days ago – her husband has business with the king.” She caught Crowley's eye and smiled. “I'll shake you down for back-story later.”

Crowley chuckled softly, and rested her head against Aziraphale's. “Thank you. Sorry. Brain's frozen, I think.”

“Can't possibly imagine why.” The kettles began to sing, blissfully quickly, and Asha emptied most of them into the tub, throwing in a sachet that filled the room with the smell of warm spices. Aziraphale sighed and relaxed, and Crowley could have kissed Asha right then and there. Which she told her.

Asha smirked. “Not in the state you're in, Princess.” Her face softened. “Crowley, a question. Do you want me to stay while you undress? I can sort Aziraphale out with my back turned to you, not see a thing if you don't want me to.”

Crowley bit her lip. “You're...please? She's too cold, she needs to get those wet things off...”

“So are you, and so do you,” Asha said firmly. “Clothes off, wench, and sluice down and get into the bath. Now, please.” And she pointedly hauled Aziraphale up and walked off a little ways with her, turning her back on Crowley and starting to get Aziraphale out of her dripping, muddy clothes.

Crowley quickly undressed, glad she was wearing a looser gown than usual, and didn't have to fuss with buttons. She quickly rinsed the mud off with a bowl of warm water, and climbed into the tub. “I'm in,” she called.

Asha was helping Aziraphale get the mud out of her hair, but made quick work of it before sending the naked woman across the room, back still turned. “Good girl. Soak as long as you both want, get good and warm, and I'll make sure your things are brought to your usual room.” Keeping her head turned, Asha walked towards the back of the room, and the servant's door there, and let herself out.

Aziraphale was slowly becoming less numb, and was instantly ashamed of how she'd felt about Sasha. She was a wonderful woman who had loved Crowley, and Aziraphale loved the stories she'd heard  _about_ her. She stumbled a little, and basically fell into the bath – but she also basically fell into Crowley's arms, and it was  _warm_ , it was so warm, she was going to cry because she was thawing out and her Crowley was right there, holding her so tenderly and it was, somehow, going to be okay.

“My poor little angel,” Crowley murmured, splashing a little water up onto her back, keeping her warm in the steamy room. “You can go right to bed, my darling. Get you nice and warm and snuggled up with a million pillows, and you can sleep all that away.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Stop fretting. Didn't we just get done learning what a tough farm girl I am?”

Crowley laughed softly. “We did, but I know you, dove. Sometimes my tough, strong farm girl needs a little pampering.” She kissed the top of her head, and stroked the wet hair there. “Sometimes I like to see her happy and warm, no matter how strong she is.”

“And what about my delicate, spoilt Princess?” Aziraphale teased. “First time caught out in the rain without a carriage to run into?”

Crowley threw her head back and laughed, and Aziraphale wiggled with joy to hear it. There! No matter what, she could make Crowley laugh like  _that_ . That was worth a marriage.

“You know me, just _addicted_ to the trappings of court,” Crowley said dryly, and skimmed her hand down, squeezing Aziraphale's bum a little. “Yum. Truly, Aziraphale, you were colder than I've ever seen you, and it frightened me. Go to bed if you like.”

Aziraphale snuggled closer. “I'll be perfectly warm with a cup of tea by the fire, beloved. And I want to meet Sasha properly.”

“Yeah, that was....” Crowley groaned and sank under the water very dramatically. Aziraphale, used to her by now, did not haul her out so Crowley was forced to surface. “Bloody hell.”

“Precisely.” Aziraphale rose to top up the bath with more hot water, and settled down at the opposite end of the tub, laying her legs atop Crowley's as she relaxed. 

“What d'you think so far?” Crowley asked, and it was Aziraphale's turn to groan.

“She's very nice.” A pause. “I would have been all right if she wasn't _exactly_ who and what I'd like to be, mind.”

“Huh?” Crowley, bless her, looked truly confused. “What d'you mean?”

Aziraphale loved her so much, she was going to hold her under the water until she smothered. “She's beautiful. She's thin. She has a gorgeous body. Her hair is done to perfection, and she moves gracefully and easily. She has children, and presumably loves them. She's royalty.” Aziraphale splashed water on her face, trying to rinse away any mud that might be left. “I know I'm all right, really, but it might have been nice to not meet the absolutely perfect version of, well, me, while soaked and covered in mud and pretty miserable.”

Crowley blinked. “I...don't know what to say,” she admitted.

Aziraphale sighed, and smiled. “I know you love me. And I'm...pretty enough, when I'm not fresh off the road. We're married, and I don't think her appearing is going to end that, or anything silly like that. Maybe...don't say anything, and let me nurse my bruised feelings?”

“You're beautiful. That's all I want to say,” Crowley said softly. “I won't bring it up again. But you are so beautiful, inside and out. Even soaked and covered in mud, my heart aches for you.”

Aziraphale smiled, and it only trembled a little. “Thank you. That means a great deal, Crowley. It really does.” She poked Crowley's flat tummy with her big toe. “I love you too. I  _am_ happy to meet her. And for you and her to reconnect. I know you've missed her.”

“Yeah...” Crowley shook her head, and stretched a little. “Later. I think my bones are still frozen.”

Aziraphale gave a little  _tch_ , and added more hot water to the bath, and they soaked away the cold and mud and Aziraphale's hip eased in the heat, and soon enough they rose and went to dress and face the world again.

Aziraphale had put on her warmest gown. It was plainer than what she usually wore, but it was a shade of blue that set off her skin, now suntanned and glowing from days spent on the prairie. Her hair was bleached even paler, drying to silver curls that she tied back very simply, just enough to get off of her face while the rest of her hair cascaded down her back. She put on a necklace Crowley had given her some time ago, a simple chain with a little silver leaf on it. It rested on the expanse of her chest; though not quite low-cut, the gown did show off a little decollete. It nipped in at her waist with a beautiful embroidered ribbon waistband, and cascaded to the floor, smooth around her big hips. She loved it; it was made of Terran wool, and she'd embroidered it herself, and wearing it usually made her feel better.

“Ready, angel?” Crowley asked softly. She'd just put the finishing touches on her powder, and Aziraphale wondered if they were both showing off just a little. A greedy feeling curled in her chest. Sasha _could_ have had this, at least in theory. But _Aziraphale_ got to spend the whole glorious adventure of the rest of her life with Crowley, loving her and being loved, making each other happy. _She_ was responsible for some of the soft joy on Crowley's face – a bit of it, at least. This beautiful woman's eyes lit up _because of Aziraphale_ , and she was going to be so greedy and spoilt and awful, and take that and wrap it around herself like armour.

Aziraphale walked over to her, taking Crowley's hand and kissing her, very lightly so as not to disturb her careful make-up, very lightly so as to be gentle with her Princess, who loved her so much.

They left their room by the front door that led to a gallery, and descended a pretty spiral wrought-iron staircase to find Asha alone by the fire, blankets already piled on a sofa, and a tray groaning with tea and cakes and little things to eat.

Aziraphale laughed and though she couldn't quite run, she moved an awful lot faster, right into Asha's arms. Her old friend, who was now one of her dearest friends, a woman who lived full-time in her heart. The hug she'd promised herself would be her reward was just as sweet and loving as she'd hoped.

“My very dear.” Asha kissed her, and kissed her again, sweet and soft, and they hugged once more, Asha rocking her a little. “You poor things.” She walked Aziraphale to the sofa and helped her settle and essentially repeated the same with Crowley, kissing her an extra time to make up for having to wait for Aziraphale to get her love first. And that warmed her heart too – to see her beloved and her friend laughing and smiling at one another, kissing, hugging warmly, and Asha settled Crowley on the sofa too, fussing tenderly, insisting that she put a blanket over her lap. “There's nothing to you but bone and shivers,” she scolded. “I will not start an international incident by sending the Princess of Terra home as an ice cube.”

“They'd give you a medal,” Aziraphale and Crowley said together, and collapsed into laughter while Asha gave them both dirty looks.

“It's lucky you found each other, you can share the single brain cell you have between the two of you,” she said dryly, and poured them all tea. “Right, _spill_. Everything. Every last detail.”

“You _really_ don't want that,” Crowley said. “International incident.”

“Oh. _Oh,_ ” Asha said, and forever and always won Crowley's heart by kneeling before both of them. “Right. Both of you tell me this moment that she's safe to come back into your lives. She's due back here in about an hour, but I can make sure you never see her again if you don't want to.”

“It's fine,” Crowley said gently. “We had a good relationship, and a good ending.”

“ _I'm_ fine,” Aziraphale agreed. “I know about her, and I like her. I want to know her better.” She smiled a little. “Really.”

Asha squeezed their knees and retook her seat. “My loving girlie. All right. But if that changes, let me know. Crowley, I  _mean_ that. I will protect you with every ounce of my power.”

“I know,” Crowley said gently. “I love _you_ for that. But she's safe, I promise.” She wrapped an arm around Aziraphale's shoulders, but didn't rat on her insecurity, good woman that she was. Aziraphale snuggled a little closer and tentatively nibbled on a small sandwich, deliberately not thinking about her big hips and tummy and everything else. She needed to eat, and it tasted so very good, so she ate.

“So the bits that are safe for public consumption,” Crowley said, with great dignity. “We were together for a good long time when I was, oh, must have been about seventeen. I was...not in a great way, when I first came to Castle Terra, but was feeling quite a bit better about life and everything when she showed up, shipped off to learn queening from Auntie until she could be married.” Crowley smiled, playing with one of Aziraphale's curls. “We did love each other. Honestly, she was my longest, and best, relationship until this one came along,” this with a little kiss to said curl. “I broke my arm pretty badly not long after we started dating, and she was so sweet about it, made me forget the pain, and that I couldn't do as much as I liked, made the summer go fast.”

Aziraphale gave her a little squeeze. This. This was why she wanted to meet Sasha, wanted to like her. The sweet, creative, fun woman who had loved Crowley through an awful lot – injury, and figuring out her own womanhood, and getting used to living in Terra. How could you not like a woman who did that for your own love?

Even if she was prettier, more graceful, and was basically everything Aziraphale wanted for herself. She even  _looked_ like Aziraphale; they had the same colouring, and the same little upturn to the tip of their nose.

Aziraphale didn't like being jealous; it made her feel icky inside. She wanted badly to like Sasha, so she ate another cake, vowed to be friendly and welcoming and kind to a woman who had been so lovely to Crowley, and to doctor herself with tea, wine and hugs.

There wasn't much else to catch up on; they'd only seen Asha a week or so ago, after all, though Aziraphale of course carried news of Madame, what little new there was, and they both shared their adventures, such as they were, out on the prairie. Also, if Aziraphale was being honest, mostly she just wanted to revel in being warm again, and that Crowley was warm and safe and unhurt, that they were here in this beautiful library with their friend who they loved. That kind of thing – she could survive  _any_ beautiful past lover and aching self-hate, if she could have such joy and comfort around her.

She was quiet, letting Crowley and Asha chatter on about something or other, and nurturing the little ball of warmth inside of her, all the affection she...maybe deserved? Oh, she was spoilt rotten, no other way to put it.

Aziraphale shook her head, trying to quiet the voice that said she was going to annoy Crowley and Asha with her neediness, and Crowley turned to ask her something, when Sasha returned, and attention was – thankfully – diverted away from Aziraphale.

“My dear...” Sasha all but ran across the room, and Crowley rose, holding her arms out.

“It's so good to see you again,” she said, hugging Sasha warmly, and getting hugged in return. “You look wonderful.”

“Oh, Crowley, you're still so sweet. You're looking...better than I've ever seen you,” she admitted, laughing and leaning back, hands still on Crowley's biceps, and getting a good look at her. “My dear girl.”

“Well, I'd hope I look better than when I'm half-drowned and frozen,” Crowley joked, and Sasha just smiled.

“Of course that. But you're so happy, aren't you?”

“You have no idea,” Crowley said softly, and turned, holding out her hand. “You must meet my wife, the Maestra Librarian Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale stood carefully, but her hip  _did_ feel better, and she bowed to Sasha. “I'm truly happy to meet you at last,” she said, and she  _did_ mean it. Really. 

Sasha smiled warmly at her, and bowed deeply. “Maestra, it's so good to meet you. Please, sit down and rest, you both really battled the elements today.”

She was so sweet, even Aziraphale's sudden jealousy was won over, and she relaxed, and gave Sasha a friendly look. “Asha said that your husband had business here?”

“Oh, yes, something to do with trade, massively dull,” Sasha said, waving the concerns away with her hand. “It was a chance to travel a bit, and I love this time of year so much.”

Aziraphale warmed, and was glad of it. She  _hated_ being jealous, it was so stupid. “Me too. Crowley and I were just travelling to Caelis – that's where I'm from, originally. Except for today, it's been absolutely lovely.”

“Oh, my brother married into their royal family!” Sasha exclaimed. “Do you know him? Richard of Florissant?”

Aziraphale blushed and looked down. “I'm sorry, I'm not of royal stock. I don't know him.”

Asha smoothly filled the awkward silence, asking after Sasha's court's Maester Librarian, a man who had been a student about the same time she and Aziraphale had.

“He's worked miracles,” Sasha admitted. “We didn't have a Library to speak of – we're really quite a tiny country – but he started, oh, right about the time I married Nikolai and has been creating the Library ever since.

“He's a _Founder_?” Asha asked, and she and Aziraphale looked at each other and laughed.

“He's never mentioned that bit!” Aziraphale protested, still giggling. She'd actually been quite good friends with Stepan, and had kept in touch with him over the years. “Forgive us,” she explained to the other two women. “It's rather a great honour to found a Library – he's sealed his legacy among the great Maestro Librarians.” She sighed, and smiled in warm pride and oh all right _envy_. “Everyone daydreams about it as students, but of course there really aren't many chances these days.”

“He's been a dream to have,” Sasha assured her. “I don't spend a lot of time there – I'm not much of a reader and I'm run off my feet with the children and the household – but it's been quite nice, and I expect Nikolai likes having someone to keep the records.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said politely. “How many children do you have, dear?”

“Three,” Sasha said proudly. “Two girls, quite old – seventeen and fourteen, and then my little son, just three years old. Bit of a surprise, there, but we've got rather old-fashioned laws about who can take the throne, and it's quite heartening to have a solid heir.”

Crowley winced. “Yes, Annwn has similar laws.”

Aziraphale turned to her, touching her hand, gentle, oh, her love. Crowley would be an awful queen, her heart was about a thousand times too soft, but she'd still be raised for the throne...

Sasha cleared her throat, blushing madly, and again Asha rescued the conversation, while Aziraphale topped up Crowley's tea and tickled the back of her neck and did all the little things to make her smile and kiss Aziraphale's ear and tell her not to fuss.

Eventually, Asha and Aziraphale gently excused themselves to see to some books that needed repairing, and if Aziraphale could do that while they were visiting, or if she'd need to take a few with her. In turn, Sasha invited Crowley to her rooms for a drink, and to meet her husband and children if they were available.

With the promise of returning to the Library for supper, Crowley agreed, and followed her down the hall and up a staircase; of course the visiting family had their own suite, a very fine one with lots of beautiful tapestries and beds that had their own curtains.

(Crowley was...fine, in such environs. But goodness, she had loved their spacious room in Madame's house, cluttered with both women's things, and she loved the wonderfully cozy room that had become theirs in Asha's Library, and was glad she was going back to that, and not this too-grand space.)

Sasha's children were lovely; her daughters quiet and well-spoken, and the baby was cute as could be during the short introduction, before they were all gently ushered back to their own room and the nanny there. Tea had arrived in the meantime, and Sasha was a graceful, gracious hostess, pouring and doing everything perfectly right.

(Again, her treacherous brain; Crowley thought back to what must have been gallons of tea in Terra's Library, brewed strong and hot, her taking the kettle off the fire while Aziraphale was distracted with something or other. Aziraphale brewed tea into something you could stand a spoon up in, in mismatched mugs that needed a wash and a little bottle of milk that lived just out a window in cool weather. It was so cozy and casual and full of love, and Crowley's hand trembled a little, making the delicate teacup shiver.)

“How _are_ you, my dearest?” Sasha asked with a warm smile. “Tell me everything.”

“I'm good,” Crowley said simply. “My life is wonderful. Not much has changed at Terra, honestly, you'd even recognize everyone still there, I think. I'm so happy there, and of course meeting Aziraphale...” she trailed off, because how on earth did you put _Aziraphale_ into words? 'I was busy feeling sorry for myself and brooding one night and she pulled me in out of the rain and I fell in love and, somehow, inexplicably, she fell in love. I'm prickly and ignorant and can't read and she's clumsy and judgemental and persnickety, and we love each other more than there are words for. Not even Aziraphale has words for it.'

“She's wonderful, I can tell,” Sasha said kindly. “She looks at you like you hang the moon.”

Crowley took a heartening sip of tea. “Pretty sure I look at her the same way,” she said. “How, um. How is Nikolai?”

Sasha shrugged. “A good man. A political marriage, but a good one. We complement each other well, and I like the Kingdom of Don. It's small, but well-off, and honestly awfully easy to run, as far as I can tell. I'm not much involved in that. Nikolai is good to me, and loves the children, and I have...affection for him. I suppose I love him,” she said thoughtfully, and shrugged again. “It was a good match.”

“I'm happy for you, then,” Crowley said gently. “Sasha...why did you never write?”

Sasha sighed, and looked sad for the first time that day. “I'm sorry. I owe you such an apology. Crowley, I'm  _really_ sorry.” She looked down at her hands. “It wasn't because I stopped loving you. I suddenly had to learn so much, and do so much, and I wanted to give Nikolai my time. And with your eyes, I didn't know...well, I knew you wouldn't be able to read, or that it might take time.”

Crowley sighed. “Or I could have gotten Chae to read them to me. Our previous Maestro Librarian was useless, but Aziraphale reads to me now – letters, I mean, and she writes what I dictate, and she swears up and down that that's what Librarians are for. Sasha, it's  _my_ problem, let me solve it.” And then, softer. “I missed you so much.”

“I'm so sorry,” Sasha said, holding out her hand. “My poor girl, I'm _sorry_. I should have written.” She smiled shyly. “Would you still like to be friends?”

“Of course I would.” Crowley smiled back, and blushed. “I could have written _you_ , I guess. I am literate, and all.”

“We'll start to write again,” Sasha said, visibly rallying. “I promise. I've thought about you often, over the years. Crowley, really, I'm so happy for you – you're in love, aren't you?”

“Head over heels,” Crowley said. “Disgusting about it, really.”

Sasha giggled. “Well, you deserve it. You were the sweetest girlfriend I ever had. Tell me about her? She seems so lovely and kind.”

Crowley thought about some of the bitchiest things Aziraphale had said, her grumping and quick repartee. That was what made her heart beat rather fast, if one was being honest. “She is,” she said, because Aziraphale  _was_ lovely and kind. Just the sharp-tongued part of her was an awful lot more fun. “She's...” Crowley laughed. “I'm sorry. She's so much a part of my life, it's almost hard to put it into words.”

She tried, though, stumbling through some sweet, chaste stories of their time together, and of how they'd met and how they had sort of accidentally been married. Sasha was eager to listen and encouraging, and the afternoon was, to Crowley's surprise, actually quite comfortable in the end.

Supper was heaven, though – with just Asha and Aziraphale to tease and be teased by, the three of them deeply happy with one another's company, the good food and better wine and rapid conversation lightening Crowley's heart immensely.

And, of course, they all repaired to Crowley and Aziraphale's room after, for cuddles and gossip. Crowley rather won at both – she got to be Asha's little spoon while Aziraphale changed for bed,  _and_ recount her afternoon with Sasha.

“She really is sorry she stopped writing, which means a lot,” she admitted. “That hurt, even after I'd moved on from the relationship.”

“Oh, honey.” Asha gave her a little squeeze and a kiss. “I can't imagine just...giving you up like that. But I suppose she was taking a lot on,” she said, shrugging.

“I can't imagine what, she doesn't know the first thing that goes on in that kingdom,” Crowley said, and was ashamed of her waspishness. “Still, children and all. She must have got pregnant with Astra on her wedding night.”

Aziraphale smiled over her shoulder at Crowley, and finished braiding her hair up before limping over to the bed and unceremoniously shoving her wife aside to curl up in Asha's arms.

“Oi,” Asha said, kindly but seriously. “Be nice to her, please, greedy miss.”

Aziraphale immediately turned red, and sat up, reaching for Crowley. “She's right, I'm sorry --”

“And I'm fine,” Crowley said, pulling Aziraphale in for a hug. “You need love too. D'you feel better, angel?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said, and lay down, moving so that Crowley was between herself and Asha, but they were all squished close enough that she could reach over and rub Asha's shoulder. “She's nice, but we're really not alike at all, are we?”

“Honestly, no,” Crowley admitted, and kissed Aziraphale's neck. “You do _look_ rather similar though.”

“Crowley has a ty-ype,” Asha sing-songed, and reached over to touch Aziraphale's hair. “I love you, lady. What was hurting your heart?”

“I love you too. It was...stupid.” Aziraphale sighed, and smiled, and snuggled closer to both of them. “She's everything I _want_ to be, on the surface. Graceful and slender and beautiful, with pretty hair and a royal lineage. I felt a right mess next to her.”

“Well, you were,” Asha said. “Poor duckling, you were cold and wet and muddy and...er, everything else.”

“Limping,” Aziraphale said with a smile. “You can say it, sweetheart.”

“Well, you're still limping,” Asha admitted. “But at least you're warm and comfortable. And I get it, I do. But the thing is, those are the things you want for you, and that's fine, but they're not the things Crowley loves about you.”

“I know,” Aziraphale said. “I realised that, too.”

“Huh?” Crowley asked.

“You love that I'm fat,” Aziraphale said. “Or do you just nibble all my wobbly bits out of boredom?”

Crowley laughed and pinched her. “Shut it. You know I love your wobbly bits, as you call them, my beauty.”

“Uh huh. And you think I'm pretty, and frankly I think you're more comfortable because I'm _not_ a royal,” Aziraphale said thoughtfully. “You were happy as a clam staying in a perfectly middle-class house in the middle of the prairie. And you've never once minded my limp. I don't want to say you _like_ it...”

“But I love it,” Crowley said quietly. “Because it's a part of you. I'm sad that it'll get worse, and that it was done to you in the first place, but it's like...I love you, all of you. And your disability is part of the package, so I love it, too. A little like you love my eyes, and you hardly mind that I can't read or write much.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “I never thought of it that way. My wise girl.” They had all relaxed a little, spread out more on the bed, and she shifted to rest her head on Crowley's chest. “So, yes. I like her for herself, and I don't feel down on myself. Not really.”

“I'll take it,” Crowley said, and kissed the top of her head, and smiled when Asha cuddled close, her head on the other side of Crowley's chest, and her arms around both woman. “What's your thoughts, Maestra Asha? You've been very quiet.”

“You're both so in love it's stomach-turning, but I really like to be around you,” she confessed, and Aziraphale gave a soft little cry.

“Oh, darling...” She leaned over and kissed Asha, soft and sweet and lingering a little. “Do you know how much we love you?”

“Yes, you ridiculous child.” Asha smiled and laced her fingers with Aziraphale's, and snuggled closer against Crowley's body. “I love you both in turn. And now to answer Crowley's question properly. I think that Sasha is very nice, but maybe not terribly interesting. She is extremely good at being the Queen of a small kingdom. I'll never not be happy to see her, but I don't think we'll become good friends.” A pause, to think. “I don't like that she just, well, dropped you, Crowley. But I can't point too many fingers – how long was it between letters for us, for some of those years?” she asked Aziraphale.

“Too long,” Aziraphale said ruefully. “Although I will note that it's expected on our parts – we were both so busy, those first years. But you're right, that still rankles a bit.”

“Mmm.” Asha shrugged. “She's lovely. She's made a very good life for herself, and I admire that. But there's a deep level of connection I just...can't make with her.”

“Exactly,” Aziraphale said. “She's welcome to visit anytime, but I don't really see myself snuggling up with her, y'know?”

“Thank God, we'd run out of room,” Asha said, and giggled when Crowley squeezed them both. “Crowley, truly, are you all right?”

“I'm fine,” Crowley assured her. “Really. I'll probably sleep forever tonight, mind, but feelings-wise, I feel fine.” She tickled the back of Aziraphale's neck. “Maybe it would still hurt if I didn't have this beauty, but honestly, I think even then...we did love each other as girls, and I suppose I could love her as a friend now, but I'll have to get to know her a lot more.” She smiled wryly. “And she'll actually have to write to me.”

“Idiot if she doesn't,” Asha declared, and stretched, and kissed both of her girls tonight. “Sleep late, the both of you. Especially you, sleepy dove,” she said, caressing Aziraphale's cheek. “Breakfast is whenever you want it, and I'll see you both tomorrow.”

There was one more round of goodnight kisses, and Aziraphale climbed under the covers to snuggle up to a pillow, while Crowley quickly changed, letting her hair down, braiding it loosely, and then climbing into bed beside Aziraphale after blowing out the last candle.

Heaven was a sleepy, chubby, gorgeous angel rolling into her arms. It really was, and Crowley tucked her close, kissing her once, twice, three times. “I am so in love with you,” she murmured.

“Demoness, I adore you.” Aziraphale kissed her, sweet and yearning. “If I wasn't absolutely bloody exhausted...”

Crowley chuckled softly. “We can have sex tomorrow, angel. And I'll tell you more stories about Eleanor and Yvaine.”

Aziraphale lit up. “More! About what?”

Crowley smiled and tapped the tip of her upturned nose. “Well, it starts when they're stranded in a snowy, icy forest. Full of wolves.  _Hungry_ wolves.”

Aziraphale shivered happily. “Happy ending?”

“Don't I always?” Crowley pouted. “A very happy ending, I promise.” She paused a beat. “Eventually.”

Aziraphale summoned enough strength to groan and push Crowley's chest, without actually moving her any, and anyway she was asleep before Crowley finished cackling.

She tried to remember who had last got to be tended in her stories; fair was fair and since Eleanor had spent a winter slowly recovering from an unspecified illness that had left her dramatically at death's door, nursed back to health by her beloved Yvaine, it was probably Yvaine's turn to fall out of a tree and land on a hungry wolf and have to be gallantly rescued, doctored, and coaxed back to health by her beloved, all while they were staying in a cabin with  _only one bed_ . And not remotely enough clothes to go around. Wolves were so handy like that, what with sharp teeth and Yvaine's tender body barely covered in shredded rags.

Crowley sleepily wondered if two broken legs was over-egging the pudding and/or would limit cunnilingus too much. Oh, but it would practically  _require_ Eleanor carry Yvaine bridal-style into the forest, let the sunlight of early spring warm her pale cheek, and allow Yvaine to reach out with her trembling, scarred hand to touch a bud about to burst into leaf. Aziraphale would cry buckets, and so Crowley had no other choice  _but_ to write that. Decision made, she fell into a very happy sleep, curled around her own beloved.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so an odd little warning -- I do not spend any time around children. If the three-year-old I write in this chapter is somehow deeply unrealistic/talks wrong for his age/whatever, er, pick an age that makes more sense? Sorry!
> 
> CW: the word fat is used as an insult at one point, but Aziraphale pretty quickly reclaims it as a neutral term in reference to herself.

They did sleep in the next day – Crowley more than Aziraphale, such that she woke so late in the morning it was nearly lunchtime. Asha fretted when she finally wandered out into the Library, and offered to send for the castle physician, but Crowley assured her that she was just, well, being herself.

“She's fine, truly,” Aziraphale seconded, looking up from where she was working on repairing an old book. “Silly girl worrits herself about me, and wears herself out. Feeling better today?”

“Like I could take on the world,” Crowley said cheerfully, leaning over to kiss her good morning. “Love you. When did you get up?”

“Love _you_. Few hours past dawn? I slept plenty,” Aziraphale assured her, reaching over to hug Crowley's hips. “Sasha's coming by for tea this afternoon, by the way, and bringing her little ones. I should be done most of these by then,” she told Asha. “They're really not too badly off.”

“Bless you,” Asha said. “And don't you dare work too much on your holiday. I'm kicking you out tomorrow if the weather's at all nice, and we can go for a ramble.”

Aziraphale giggled, but acquiesced. Autumn in Gaia was something special, and she rather liked the idea of ranging far and wide with her wife and her friend.

“Anything you'd like to do today, sweet?” Asha asked, as Crowley helped herself to a cup of tea from the pot. “I don't have anything very interesting set up on any of my looms, I'm afraid.”

Crowley shrugged. “'s too nice to stay inside anyway. Mind if I go explore the gardens?”

“Mind if I come with you?” Asha asked in return, and they grinned at one another. 

“Of course not,” Crowley said, and yawned again, and drank deep. “Lunch is soon, right?”

“Not quite an hour. We can go after, and be back to take tea with Sasha,” Asha assured her. “Oh – do you mind looking at one of my ferns, while you're here? The bloody thing has been half-dead for a year now, and I'd really like it to decide to either cark it and free up a pot, or recover.”

Crowley giggled, and promised she'd look at it. “Ferns can be tricky. What kind is it?”

“Maidenhair?” Asha made a face. “I've got others that are about to take over my desk, I don't know why this one's being a pain.”

Crowley whistled low. “Oh, they're extra-tricky, you've done good to keep it only half-dead.” She smiled and winked. “Something, something, dirty joke about paying attention to a maiden's hair, and I don't mean the hair on her head.”

“You _aren't_ cute,” Aziraphale said, not even looking up from the book she was repairing, while Asha groaned.

Crowley settled back, extremely pleased with herself. Asha's Library was wonderfully familiar now, and although her dark glasses were in her pocket – she'd never want to go without them – neither of the other women minded her eyes, and she could be as open, and frankly  _dorky_ , with them as she liked.

It was a lovely afternoon – Crowley truly did feel like a new woman after her long sleep and a hearty lunch, and it was great fun to run around the gardens with Asha, exclaiming over some rare species and enjoying the crisp air. It was a cloudy, overcast day, but rain didn't particularly threaten, and they both got fresh air and a bit of exercise and, in general, grabbed ahold of a lovely day and shook all the joy out of it they could.

Aziraphale was still working when they tumbled back into the Library with the smell of dry leaves in their hair, so Crowley took the maidenhair fern to task, clipping away some dead leaves, and finding a more humid place to move it, to see if something darker and wetter would benefit. “Honestly, they're really hard plants,” Crowley assured Asha, before putting her face near the delicate fronds. “But this one is going to behave,  _isn't it_ ?” she threatened. “I'll be back next spring to check.”

Asha giggled, and left her to her bullying, wanting to put on the kettle. Tea was to be very casual, just old friends and new – well, maybe new, Crowley was still unsure how Sasha might fit in – a pot of plain black tea and plenty of biscuits.

Aziraphale looked up as the kettle whistled and stretched, groaning when her shoulders popped and groaning again when Crowley came over to give her a little massage. “Oh, your hands...” Magic. They were absolute magic, as she felt something pop and heat flooded her shoulders.

“Time for a break, angel,” Crowley said gently, and she smiled up at her.

“Indeed. I'm nearly done, I promise – a few hours after tea, and that's it for work,” Aziraphale said. She stretched again and stood up, right into Crowley's arms and a little snuggle. “How are the gardens?”

“Beautiful, of course – you'll have to see them tomorrow, angel-girl,” Crowley said, walking her over to the sofa. “You look so happy.”

“I am!” Aziraphale laughed and settled down, stretching her feet towards the fire and wiggling her toes. She'd put on her pretty red boots, meant for indoor wear, and felt really quite happy with herself and the world. “I like repairing books, and I've already done most of ours, love.”

“I can't fix them to save my life, so I'll send you plenty,” Asha promised. “Or hold them ransom and make you come visit, too.”

“Oh, I like that plan,” Crowley offered. “Or you can chaperone the books yourself, and come visit _us_.”

Asha just grinned – the two kingdoms were really quite close, and it was easy to find excuses to dash back and forth.

Just then, though, Sasha arrived and there was the hum of activity of introducing her children. The girls, grown and nearly grown, were polite and sweet, clearly well-trained in courtly ways. The toddler was cute, and Crowley immediately got down on the floor to play monster with him.

The Library filled with happy chatter, Aziraphale hitting it off with Sasha's younger daughter, a fourteen-year-old named Luna, who was curious about a Maestra Librarian's training.

“It's not just reading,” Aziraphale warned. “There's very little reading, actually – except _about_ being a Librarian, that is.” She grinned wryly. “There's plenty of reading then.”

Luna giggled. “I know – I mean, Maestro Stepan's told me a little,” she admitted. “He said it's hard.”

“It is,” Aziraphale said. “I won't lie to you – it's incredibly hard training. But it's not...look, I started very young, so I might have got a bit of special treatment, but I don't think very much. And I found it hard, but it ramped up, does that make sense? You're not instantly thrown into the deep end of the pond.”

Luna nodded. “That does make sense, Maestra,” she said politely. “I'm good at studying.”

“How are you at learning new ways to do things?” Aziraphale asked. “That's a lot of it, especially the early years. The way I remember things is unusual. Because I have to remember so much, so precisely, I was taught techniques – I mean, we all were.”

“I...don't know?” Luna blushed. “I'm sorry, Maestra, I'm not being cheeky. I just don't know. My tutors say I'm clever. I just...well, I don't _want_ to marry, and I don't want to be a nun or a nurse or anything but a Librarian?”

“It's all right, dear,” Aziraphale said gently, heart going out to this girl who knew her mind so well. “I promise. You can't even apply for a few years yet. And if you hate it, you _are_ allowed to leave,” she teased, and Luna giggled, and they both giggled a bit.

“But tell me something about your court?” she asked. “Please? What do you like to do?”

Luna lit up, and started chatting happily about the great forest, and the ghillie who had taught her what wild things were good to eat and what would make her sick, while Aziraphale listened, truly enjoying the conversation.

They made a happy party, refilling the teapot several times. Jacob, the toddler, even got worn out enough playing monster to wander over to his mother, freeing Crowley to settle by Aziraphale and accept a proper cup of tea and a biscuit from her wife.

He was quickly up and about again, wandering in the middle of the little circle the women had made, and stopping in front of Crowley and Aziraphale.

“Are you a princess?” he demanded of Aziraphale, a few fingers in his mouth.

“I'm not, actually,” she said with a smile. “You may call me Maestra, though.”

“ _You're_ a princess,” he said, pointing at Crowley.

“I am,” she said, and raised an eyebrow. She'd put her dark glasses on for the guests – not so much Sasha, but her children. “The Maestra is my wife.”

“Why'd you marry her, if she's not a princess?” Jacob asked, and Aziraphale hid a smile in her mug.

“Because I love her very much,” Crowley said. “And she loves me.”

Aziraphale squeezed her hand. Sometimes Crowley got a little wobbly when she said things like that, and she was so proud of her girl for remaining steady.

“Awwww,” Astra said quietly, and Aziraphale smiled at the girl. She was already the spit of her Mum, and if she was anything like the rest of the family, would be utterly charming.

“Awww is about how it feels,” she confided, and they giggled together.

Jacob had been considering this for some time. “That's stupid,” he announced. “Princesses should only marry other royals.”

“Jacob!” Sasha looked horrified. “We don't say such things, because it's not true! Apologise to the Maestra and Princess Crowley.”

“No!” he said, and burst into giggles. “'sides, she's _fat_!”

Luna just buried her face in her hands, while Astra and Sasha rose as one.

“That's it,” Sasha said. “Back to the nursery for a time-out for naughty boys.” She scooped him up, face beet-red, and all but ran out of the room, her daughters going with her – presumably to babysit or, Aziraphale suspected, possibly die of embarrassment in private.

She  _just_ managed to hold it together until the door shut, when she and Asha burst into howls of laughter and Crowley made a kind of indignant screech.

“That little _brat_!”

Aziraphale laughed harder, and Asha actually slid out of her chair.

“That's me told,” Aziraphale gasped out, and Asha crawled the few feet to yank her down, the two of them literally rolling on the floor laughing and hugging.

“Oi, Princess, can I have her since you're not supposed to marry?” she wheezed.

“It's not funny!” Crowley protested. “What horrible things to say.”

“Oh, my love.” Aziraphale wiped her eyes and got back onto the sofa, pulling Crowley into a warm hug. “He's probably not even repeating things, or if he is, I doubt it's something Sasha taught him. She's too nice.” She laughed and hugged her poor wife. “I love you so much. It's all right. I know he touched on a bunch of my sore spots, but I'm not upset, I promise.”

“Great, but _I_ am,” Crowley said, and Asha and Aziraphale stopped laughing.

“Tell me your heart, then?” Aziraphale said gently, taking Crowley's hands. “I don't understand, beloved. He's just a baby, he doesn't know better.”

Crowley sighed. “If he was a random kid at an inn, I'd be laughing too. But he could start a war without meaning to, if he said that to the wrong person. I don't matter in the Terran royal family – don't look like that, I mean politically – but if I was someone else...” She shook her head. “Forgive me, but neither of you understand. Maybe it's the way I was raised, which I don't recommend, but I  _knew_ , even that young, not to say such things. Even just to get a rise. It's not funny, it's dangerous, and Sasha should have taught him better.”

“Thank you, darling,” Asha said gently, resting her hand on Crowley's knee. “I understand, now.”

Crowley smiled down at her. “I'm sorry. I just...you know I was raised to be a king, right?”

Asha nodded. “I do. I'm sorry you had to learn those hard lessons so young.”

“Me too,” Aziraphale added and cuddled her soft princess. She knew Crowley had been beaten, and her training had been hard, and she just...couldn't imagine it. Taking the sweet, creative girl Crowley must have been, and trying to mould her into something else. She kissed Crowley's hair, and stroked her back. “I love you, demoness.”

Crowley smiled. “Me three. And I love you. I'm sorry, I would love to find it funny, but it isn't.”

Aziraphale kissed her cheek, and Asha kissed her hand, and Aziraphale smiled, because Crowley deserved to be petted and fussed like this far, far more than she actually was.

The door opened and Aziraphale rose, just in case there  _was_ an international incident she had to calm down. It was Sasha, of course, still beet-red and crying a little, and Aziraphale simply opened her arms and gathered the poor woman close.

“I am _so sorry_ ,” Sasha said. “I cannot ever apologize enough. The things he said...I don't even know where he _got_ that....”

“It's all right,” Aziraphale said warmly. “Oh, you poor thing. Three year olds were invented to absolutely shame their parents, I swear. I'm not insulted in the least, I promise you.”

“Still.” Sasha groaned, and leaned her head on Aziraphale's shoulder. “You must think I'm the worst mum in the world.”  
“I do not. You forget, I had a whole conversation with one of your lovely daughters. Come and sit with us,” Aziraphale coaxed, her heart genuinely going out to the poor woman. Sasha was such a sweetheart. “And, you know, for the record, he's not actually _wrong_. I _am_ fat, and there's plenty of kingdoms where Crowley wouldn't have been allowed to marry me.”

“Stupid kingdoms,” Crowley and Asha muttered in concert, and grinned at one another.

Sasha smiled weakly. “Oh, Lord. Yes, that's my heir, castle physician and diplomat in one.”

Aziraphale got her sat down, and a mug of hot tea in her hands. “He'll grow out of it,” she predicted. “Or you'll suddenly have quite a fleet of peacemakers, one or the other.”

Sasha managed to laugh, and brushed at her eyes. “I  _am_ sorry, though. To both of you, and to you Asha, we've been awful guests.”

“Don't be silly,” Asha said. “This is the most interesting thing that's happened in here all year. Biscuit?”

Crowley was quiet, but held her peace, and Asha and Aziraphale coaxed Sasha into giggling along with the rest of them, any awkwardness assigned to the past while they chatted about this and that, making light, sweet conversation.

Crowley offered to walk Sasha to her rooms when it came time for her to leave, and Aziraphale kissed her as she made to leave.

“Be nice, my love,” she murmured in Crowley's ear, and got a little squeeze.

“I will,” Crowley murmured back. “Promise.”

Aziraphale and Asha made quick work of tidying up, and Aziraphale returned to finish up her work while Asha settled down with a book to pass the last few golden hours of the afternoon. Crowley wasn't gone very long, really, and let herself back into the Library quietly.

“Everything all right?” Aziraphale asked, looking up from her work.

“It's good,” Crowley said. “She really feels absolutely rubbish, and understood what I was saying.” She smiled a little. “I don't think she liked being lectured to, but I _am_ right. It's fine, though, really.”

“Good,” Aziraphale said. “I want to stay friends with her.” She blew Crowley a little kiss, before returning to her careful work.

The rest of the day was languorous, the coming on of evening and quiet, happy work. Aziraphale finished up the books sooner than she expected, and Asha was called away to a quick meeting with the chancellor. Crowley roamed around and admired some beautiful maps, studying them as well as she could; she'd found if she turned her head and read out of the corner of her left eye, she could read print a little more easily. Of course, there were tiny placenames that she could never read, but Aziraphale or Asha would help her puzzle them out later, and she liked to see where mountains met sea, and where settlements had obviously become kingdoms along rivers and the like.

The maps were hung in a slightly distant corner, and Crowley lingered, hoping – oh, of course Aziraphale would come find her, and kiss her, and be immediately distracted by a shelf of geography books off to one side.

“Oh, this is where the travelogues are!” she gasped with joy, running her fingertips along the spines. “Crowley, let's pick one out to read.”

“Or we could do other things,” Crowley offered, coming up behind Aziraphale and undoing the bodice of her gown with a single tug on the lacing. It was an unusual cut for her, tight from the waist up, and goodness, her breasts just came _spilling_ out as soon as the pretty ribbons up the front were freed.

“Oh! Crowley...” Aziraphale gasped, head arching back as Crowley cupped her breasts, quickly undoing the neckline of her shift, too, and desperately grateful that Aziraphale hated corsets just as much as Crowley loved them. It made it so easy to be in the position they currently were, e.g. Aziraphale half-covering herself, bosom spilling out and Crowley feeling her up, pinching her nipples until they peaked, sweet little things. She kissed Aziraphale's throat and felt her shudder, and went for the kill – squeezing and playing with her breasts while she kissed the soft spot under her ear, mouth open and wet, and Aziraphale moaned softly, going heavier in Crowley's arms.

“We mustn't – anyone could come in at any time....”

“Then we'll have to be very quiet,” Crowley murmured, still nibbling and kissing that soft, soft skin. Aziraphale smelled intoxicating, and she was flushed and warm and eager, gasping at every touch, spilling out of her gown and already looking ready for debauching.

“I can't....not with...oh, oh, _Crowley,_ ” Aziraphale moaned softly, shuddering when Crowley hiked up her gown and caressed her hip. “I can't, I really can't, there could be fifty scholars out there and they'd hear me moaning your name...”

Crowley smiled. “What if I made it so you couldn't make sounds?”

“I think that...oh, oh love...I think that's best,” she gasped.

Crowley gave her bared rump a little smack, and loved the moan she got. “Brace yourself against the shelf, angel.”

Aziraphale did, already shaking a little, leaning forward so her breasts hung heavy and sweet, simply begging for caresses. In a moment – Crowley took a handkerchief from one pocket, glad she carried large ones, and quickly turned it into a gag, tying it behind Aziraphale's head. She spun her eager little angel around and grinned.

Aziraphale was _stunning._ Mouth gagged shut, head tilted back and moaning softly, silently, bosom heaving, her breasts on display and the bodice of her gown nearly falling off. Crowley lifted her skirts, running one hand along her smooth stockings while the other pinched first one nipple, then the other, then massaged and cupped Aziraphale's breasts.

She didn't particularly take her time – who could, with such a sight before them? So much better to slip her fingers between Aziraphale's legs and rub her off, watching her try to moan and be unable to, watching her hold herself up, legs weak from being on display, from Crowley fucking her. She got one arm around her and turned her around, pressed against the wall of books and worked her fingers faster, sliding through the sweet folds of her vulva, finding her clit and knowing just what she liked best.

Feeling Aziraphale shudder under her was never not going to be magical, feeling her body shake with orgasm, her breathing go hard and fast, the way she quivered, responded, fell. It was exquisite, every time, from a quickie in the stacks to hours of foreplay and lovemaking in their bed.

They wound up in a heap on the floor, Aziraphale mostly in her lap, her breathing slowly returning to normal. Crowley held her with one arm and untied the gag with the other, freeing her mouth and relaxing when Aziraphale quickly caught her breath. There were a few marks across her bosom from the hard bookcase, but they were fading quickly. Crowley very gently touched the corners of her mouth, a little red, but Aziraphale smiled at her, and with a kiss or two, Crowley was assured that she was perfectly fine.

“What a treat,” she sighed, and wiggled a little, and grinned. “You enjoyed it too.”

“You, hush,” Crowley teased, while Aziraphale's gorgeous rump against her hard-on did nothing to make it, well, less hard. “I'm saving that for tonight.”

“Ooooh!” Aziraphale giggled softly. “What do you want to do, beloved? Anything you like. We haven't played The Cock-Hungry Maestra in awhile...”

Crowley gave her a look. “Honey, we play that every waking moment of our lives, and half the sleeping ones.”

“Oi! You're so mean! The only cock I've ever had, of course I love it!”

Crowley threw her head back and laughed. “You little minx,” she said warmly, and cuddled Aziraphale, giving her rump a generous squeeze. “I have some ideas.” She smiled shyly. “I...um, do you know what interfemoral sex is?”

Aziraphale parsed the word, head tilted to one side. “Oh, like between my thighs?”

Crowley nodded. “You hold those delicious legs tight together, and I fuck between them. Is that something you'd like?”

“Oh, yes please!” Aziraphale smiled, and hugged her. “I'd like to try. I think I'll like it a lot. It would let you...well, it's like penetration, but just not in my vagina.” She smiled softly. “Can we do it face-to-face?”

“I think it's a little harder that way, but yes. I want to see you, precious.” Crowley smiled softly. “And if you don't like it...”

“Or _you_ don't like it,” Aziraphale said, and kissed her, long and sweet. “I adore you. Will you help me get dressed again? Asha's going to throw something if she has to see my tits one more time, and honestly I don't blame her.”

Crowley laughed out loud, and helped her get herself sorted again, every thread beautifully back in place. “Aziraphale? Do you miss those orgies? I know you've sworn up and down that you're monogamous, but do you ever want to, well, invite Asha along?”

Aziraphale smiled. “That's a lot of questions, and they have different answers. Give me a moment to think, and I'll answer you?”

“Of course,” Crowley said, and was only a little surprised to find herself drawn into a warm hug before Aziraphale went to make tea.

She was stirring sugar into Crowley's cup before she had a good answer. “I know this is going to be shocking to you, but I don't miss all the sex, exactly. It was gloriously fun, and I learned a lot about myself and giving pleasure, and it made me a better lover, which I'm grateful for. But I don't spend nights longing to be in a tangle of a half-dozen women or anything. And I truly don't miss jumping from partner to partner. It was fine then, but I like being special to you.”

“Oh, sweetheart...” Crowley said softly. “You were special to those girls, too. Maybe not the same way you are to me – no offence, I'm sure they're nice, but I _love_ you.”

Aziraphale giggled. “Entwined souls. That's what Anathema said, right? We have entwined souls, _we're_ special. But I don't know that _I_ was special. Oh, to a few – Asha of course, and Elsie and a few others you haven't met yet. But most of those girls, we fucked and had fun and made each other very happy and were barely friends outside the bedroom. Or supply closet. Or grove of trees.” Aziraphale smiled warmly. “I don't want you to think they didn't care about me, or like me. But it was more...our lives only intersected in sex. Which is beautiful and wonderful, but...say, if I broke an ankle, they wouldn't come visit, or help me out, you know?”

Crowley nodded. “I get it. I promise, I'm not judging them.” Pause. “Much.”

“You!” Aziraphale laughed. “So there, that's your answer for the orgies and the casual lovemaking. For something less casual...” She was quiet a moment. “Huh. I wasn't expecting this. I really, truly, only want to make love to you, Crowley. You're the only person I want touching my clit, or kissing my breasts, the only person I want making me come. And I don't want to share your precious body – I want to be the only one sucking your cock. I like that we are only for each other,” she said quietly. “Is that horrible?”

“What? No! Oh my God, angel, no,” Crowley assured her. “I want that too. I really do, love.” She blushed. “Only – I really like kissing Asha.”

“Oh, me too,” Aziraphale said, and laughed. “Watching you kiss her, and kissing her myself. I love snuggling with her, and, well, all we do now. It's nice, and I think it makes her happy too. If we ever wanted another person, I think it could only be her, but, well.” She shrugged. When they'd visited in the spring, Elsie had invited them to join her and Asha in bed, and not just to sleep or cuddle, and they'd both demurred with love. Aziraphale didn't see that ever changing, if she was honest. “I like what we have now.”

Inevitably, Asha arrived back just then, welcomed with kisses and Crowley pouring her a cup of tea, which got her Asha cuddled up to her on the sofa, head on her shoulder.

“How was your meeting?” Aziraphale asked, and Asha shrugged.

“About what you'd expect. What have you two been up to?”

Aziraphale smiled. “Talking about you, actually. That we love you very dearly. Honey, we should ask – both of us love kissing and cuddling you, but it'll never go beyond that. Are _you_ all right with that, sweet girl?”

Asha laughed. “Of course! Were you worried over that?”

“Well, not 'til just now,” Aziraphale admitted.

Asha smooched Crowley on the cheek loudly. “Just out of curiosity, when have you ever known me to hold my tongue if I'm unhappy about something?”

“...point,” Aziraphale conceded, and smiled shyly. “I'm sorry, of course I trust you to speak up.”

“You silly gem of a woman, I hope you have every blessing and you fall asleep beloved every day of your life,” Asha teased her. “I will. I'm _very_ happy like this. You know things ended well with me and Ivy, but...it hurt,” she said. “It still hurts. I loved her so much for ten years, and then the love...stopped. And it was hard. I'm not ready to try that again. The occasional casual lover, and cuddles and kisses and being loved by the both of you the way you do, that does me just fine.”

“Oh, Asha,” Crowley said softly, and gathered her a little closer. “I'm sorry your heart hurts. I love you. I'm so glad we met, and became friends.”

Asha snuggled happily, pressing a tiny kiss to Crowley's collarbone. “Me too. I knew I'd adore you, mind.”

“That makes one of us!” Crowley exclaimed. “I was so nervous meeting you. That I wouldn't be smart enough, or you wouldn't think me good enough for Aziraphale.”

“What!” Asha sat up at that, yelping in surprise. “Are you serious?”

Crowley nodded, smiling a little at her own foolishness.

“Oh my God, you dweeb. I love you. Holy shit.” Asha was laughing, and hugging Crowley tightly. “You made my girl happy. You love her and she loves you. You're so gentle with her, but you don't coddle her. And you're so smart. You utter dingus. I love you with all my heart, Aziraphale, I changed my mind, can I marry her too?”

Aziraphale practically fell out of her chair, she was laughing so hard. “Thank God, now someone else understands how _charming_ you are, Crowley.”

“You're both weirdos,” Crowley said, but she hugged Asha back. “Oh, here's a question for you, missus. D'you miss all the orgies and casual sex and, well, everything?”

“A bit,” Asha admitted. “It was so much fun, and of course all the orgasms helped. I _do_ miss having sex with a bunch of people at the same time. It was so deliciously overwhelming...”

“True,” Aziraphale said with a sweet smile. “I don't miss it at all, but I don't regret it either.”

Asha smiled at her from Crowley's lap. “Good. You were a wonderful lover.”

“You were too. I'm so glad you were my first,” Aziraphale said softly.

“Oh, baby...” Asha laughed and held out her arm. “Get over here, you.”

It was a tight fit on the sofa, but they made it work, with kisses and shifted weight and a lot of giggling, and some very, very comfortable snuggles by the fire as evening dropped over them soft as anything.

“Harder,” Aziraphale begged. “Fuck me harder, love.”

Crowley groaned, hips pumping, dear God Aziraphale's _thighs_. Hard as rocks from all that riding, but soft at the same time? Her skin? Was perfect? Striped with silver stretch marks that Crowley was definitely created by God to kiss, her big hips and her muscular thighs that were currently clasped really, really, _really_ tightly around Crowley's cock. She held herself up a little, not wanting to crush, and also this way Aziraphale's breasts were free to spill across her body, to be kissed and be played with.

Crowley's vision narrowed and it had nothing to do with her eyes and everything to do with the way Aziraphale was so hot around her, begging her tenderly, moaning and squeezing her legs even tighter, Crowley's cock pounding into that sweet dark slick soft....

She came to moaning in Aziraphale's arms, both of them gleaming with sweat and Aziraphale decidedly sticky.

“There we are,” she murmured softly. “Oh, my _beauty_.”

Crowley moaned again. Words. What even were words?

“Shhh, just rest. I love you much. You came all over me,” Aziraphale purred. “It felt amazing. You were so beautiful. Are so beautiful.”

Crowley managed one last moan before giving up and just floating in the afterglow, her hot, filthy-mouthed, impossibly loving angel holding her safe against the world. And, wholly relaxed and wholly happy, Crowley let Aziraphale take care of her without argument. It felt too sweet, to be loved and to love and to simply rest, her nerves full of pure pleasure that, eventually, sent her straight to a deep sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done! Thank you everyone who's gone along on this very, very long holiday of theirs. I'm taking a break from really long fics in this universe to work on Whumptober, but they'll be appearing over there too!

The next day started with the three women setting out on a hike, taking advantage of the gorgeous, blowsy autumn day. Asha chased Crowley up the path and into the woods, and Aziraphale chased after both of them, all Maestra dignity gone as she hollered for them to slow up for her.

They did the instant they were under cover of trees, and Aziraphale found herself caught by two very happy, glowing women, who both kissed her before they resumed walking a bit more sedately.

The forest was alive in the sunshine, and they laughed and pointed things out to one another – funny birds, or a great bit of fungus somewhere. Crowley had never seen a puffball mushroom before, and was wide-eyed when confronted with one.

“How is that not from fairyland?” she demanded. It was huge, bigger than her own head, perfectly smooth and _weird_.

Asha laughed and took her hand. “Watch!” she said, and stomped on it, releasing a pouf of spores and causing Crowley to shriek in surprise.

After that, nothing would do but to find and stomp on as many as could be reached from the path, Aziraphale even getting one with an elegant jump, landing with both feet and laughing hard.

They came to a fork in the path, and Asha slipped her arm around Aziraphale's waist. “Right, two options. Lovey, are you okay to scramble up some rocks? Crowley and I can help you if you need it, but I don't think it would be very hard anyway.”

Aziraphale laid her head on Asha's shoulder. “I'm fine, sweetheart. My leg feels good in this weather. If it's really hard I might need a boost, but that's just _me_ , not any damage.”

Asha grinned and hugged her. “Wonderful. Both paths wind up in lovely places, but I wanted to show you both the lookout.”

Crowley snuggled up to Aziraphale's back, standing on tiptoe so she could rest her chin on her wife's head. “Brilliant,” she agreed, and squeezed her chubby girl. Aziraphale was wearing her blue wool gown again and looked, Crowley thought, like some kind of pagan queen of the forest. Admittedly, they were all well on their way to that: Asha wore a crown of ivy that Aziraphale had woven her as they walked, and Crowley had leaves of purple and red tucked in among her braids, her own kind of wild crown. Something must be done for Aziraphale, and she kept her eyes open as they took to the narrow path, trailing her fingertips across rough bark. There weren't really any flowers left, unless they stumbled on some wild roses that were stubbornly still blooming. Well, no matter – she was Crowley's queen, crown or no, and was well-loved and fed and warm, and everything Crowley would ever want for her. Play crowns or no.

Shaking off the moment of reflection, Crowley hurried on ahead, keeping up with the other women.

The forest grew thicker, the undergrowth disappearing as the path began to curve and go uphill, very slightly. In summer they would be in deep shadow, but enough trees had lost their leaves that the sunlight filtered down, dappling each of them and actually leaving the path mostly in sun, at least at this time of day. Crowley tilted her head up and grinned, drinking in the warmth before winter set in, and just about missed tripping over a root, pleased no one had caught her at it.

The path stayed on this gentle upslope for a long time, and they took their time, walking slow.

“This is one of the last really nice days of the year,” Asha explained, stretching her arms up, and Crowley took advantage to dive in and tickle her. “Oi! Demoness!” She was laughing though, and turned in Crowley's arms to give her a hug. “You can feel it,” she said. “Winter coming on, in just a few days.”

Aziraphale nodded. “You can taste it in the air,” she agreed, and breathed deep, eyes closing for a moment, like someone appreciating fine wine. “Smoke, and dead leaves, sunshine and a harvest. And a breath of cold under the sun.”

“Exactly,” Asha said softly, and Crowley kept an arm around her waist. “Tea and chocolate.”

Crowley smiled. “Caramel. Apples. Winning an argument to  _not_ have sex outside.”

“Crowley!”

Asha cackled. “Too bloody cold, unless you're just going to crawl up her dress.”

“Angel, there's an idea --” Crowley laughed at the look she was getting. “Well, it is. And this one won't result in months in bed healing broken bones.”

“Once!” Asha yelled. “ _Once_. You fall out of a tree _one time_ and all your sex plans are suspect for life!”

They giggled and ambled, all three somehow orbiting each other, giving touches and hugs and little kisses as the path grew steeper. The trees grew fewer and shorter, too, as they rose above the treeline and forest turned to wild, windy meadows, until it petered off into, well – boulders.

“Oh,” Crowley breathed, looking up. “Oh, Asha, this is brilliant. We'll be able to see for miles!” “Easily,” Asha said. “C'mon, I'll show you the best way up!” And with that happy call, she set her boot against a rock and started to scramble up.

Crowley kept half an eye on Aziraphale, but her leg was fine, and she was a great strong woman anyway, tackling the climbing maybe not with ease, but absolutely keeping up – and, at one point, actually giving Crowley a needed boost to get to the top. The tiny, satisfied, proud smile she wore when she'd successfully got both herself and Crowley over that very tricky rock – well, the pride over that could keep Crowley fed all winter.

They scrambled up behind Asha, pulling and climbing and giggling as they made their way over huge boulders, marvelling at moss and lichen until they'd reached the highest peak, a flat stone with just enough room for the three of them to sit, if they didn't mind pressing close together.

“Ooooh.” Aziraphale actually stood up and turned around slowly, eyes alight. “Oh, it's incredible.”

“Sometimes you can get above the clouds up here,” Asha said, smiling up at her. “It's like being in another world.”

“Get up and look,” Aziraphale said, holding her hand down, and Crowley did, standing carefully, but really they had enough room. She just worried. 

“It's beautiful,” she agreed. Gaia stretched below them, mostly fields just as Terra was, but with thick forest interspersed. Under the golden sunlight the harvested fields were all shades of brown and tan and gold, and the forests alight with colour. It was breathtaking, and she turned slowly, taking in the changing landscape. Of course it was possible to see the castle, great hulking thing that it was, and even the distant mountains of Caelis.

They'd come all that way. Aziraphale, for the first time, as a girl. And now the two of them grown and married and in love. They'd gone there and were coming back, coming  _home_ , and for a moment Crowley's heart ached so sharply. She loved Gaia of course, but missed her home, her own bedroom and Aziraphale's Library and Chae and the barn cats and Kevin who always had a new and interesting and sometimes tasty tipple for her, and Colin and her auntie and uncle and Adam...

Crowley smiled through the homesickness. It'd pass, and anyway they would be on their way soon, ready for a long winter in the castle. And until then she could breathe deep the sharp air and take in the sunshine and leaves and trees going bare, and the beauty of the land caught between seasons around her.

She must have got lost in her head; when Crowley next looked around, really looked around  _close_ , Aziraphale was sat down again, sharing an apple with Asha. She carefully sank down to the ground herself, hooked her chin over Aziraphale's shoulder, and tried to make up for the poetic-ness of being lost in the landscape by being a pill.

It didn't quite work, unfortunately, resulting only in Asha offering her an apple and Aziraphale smooching her cheek. “It's breathtaking, isn't it darling? Especially after a few days on the plains.”

“'s'nice,” Crowley mumbled around a mouthful of apple.

“It catches you sometimes like that,” Asha said, but she didn't tease further – just put an arm around Crowley's shoulders and let her take her time and space.

Getting down proved harder than getting up, all three of them working together carefully to ease their way over the biggest rocks, and there was a heart-stopping moment when Asha slid a good fifteen feet down.

“Honey?” Aziraphale called, tense.

“Fine! I'm fine!” Asha called up. “I went slow. I'm fine, lovey. Go to the right of where I was – that's it, there's better hand-holds, I can see 'em from here.” She called directions to both of them, although Crowley refused to start down until Aziraphale was safe on the same ledge Asha was on. She could just _see_ herself slip and tumble and take her poor girl out as well as herself.

As soon as she got down she pulled Asha into a hug, of course. One had to check for damages oneself, as she informed her.

“You're a delight,”Asha informed her, laughing, and Crowley examined a scrape on the side of her hand. “I'm _fine_. I promise. You do like to fuss, don't you?”

“I'm sorry,” Crowley said, letting her hand go. “You're a grown adult. Am I too much?”

“Not even a little bit,” Asha said. “I don't have someone fussing over me all the time, remember? You're a treat – both of you,” she said, turning to Aziraphale.

“ _You're_ a treat,” Aziraphale said and kissed her, and swung her down onto a lower bit of rock. They were nearly back to the path then; as the tallest Crowley had the easiest time, and she simply ran ahead, leapt to the ground, and had great fun catching the both of them when they tried the same thing.

The amble back was easy, mostly downhill, and inevitably ended in them all chasing each other, practically bowling themselves into the castle, breathless and laughing. Asha's ivy crown was all askew and Crowley was shedding leaves with every step. Aziraphale had even picked up some leaves and grass in her braids, mostly from rolling down a hill, and silver curls had straggled free to get in her face. She was giggling madly, arm around Asha's waist as they tumbled through the great welcoming Hall, making for the Library and plenty of tea and cakes.

“Oh! Hullo you three!” Sasha must have been going to something official; she and Astra were in finery from head to toe, down to brocade robes and small bejewelled crowns.

Aziraphale caught her breath, still giggling. “Hullo you two,” she said happily. “You both look absolutely gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” Astra said softly, smiling and blushing a little. “You look, um.”

“Like we just got released from the circus, it's all right.” Crowley waved it away while Astra couldn't stop a giggle. “Court dinner?”

Sasha sighed. “What else, for all the smells and bells and jewels and things?”

“Ooof. Good luck,” Crowley said, making a face. “Visit a little tomorrow, before you lot head out?”

“I promise.” Sasha leaned in and kissed Crowley's cheek. “We've got a lot of time apart to make up for, demoness.”

Crowley grinned. “And how. We won't keep you, anyway – and we'll be in the Library if you get sprung early. Both of you, sweetheart,” she said, making sure Astra was welcome.

“Your lips to God's ears,” Astra said, and grinned when her mother made an indignant sound, but they really did have to scarper, then, and Crowley wanted to get some tea inside of her. Or a glass of wine; either would do really.

She got both; tea first while they got themselves into something like a socially-acceptable state, then wine with supper, a glorious spread that showed off the autumn harvest. Between hiking and wine and good, heavy food, Crowley was half-asleep before the fire soon after supper, content to lay there and doze and listen to Aziraphale and Asha talk. Some reminiscing about school; always worth staying awake for, that. Softer memories too, of friends who were far away now, one or two who'd passed on. Soft voices and warm fire and a room full of love, and she fell asleep without meaning to, her head in Aziraphale's lap and her own wife's fingers combing out her loosed curls.

“Baby, just wake up for a moment, you'll be happier in bed.”

“Mmmmph.” Crowley yawned and opened her eyes. “'time'sit?”

“Late. Asha and I got caught up in talking, my demon-girl. Up you go – I'm not quite strong _or_ sober enough to carry you, you know. There's my good lass, just get to bed and I'll sort everything else out,” Aziraphale said.

“I know,” Crowley mumbled. “Trust you with...with the whole world.”

“Oh, sweetheart...” Warm arms around her, guiding her safe up the stairs and then soft, bed, wonderfully warm, oh that was Aziraphale cuddling her back to sleep.

When Crowley woke, sunlight was streaming through the windows, she was in a nightgown that had been put on backwards and it was actually one of Aziraphale's, and said love of her life was sprawled beside her, snoring her head off. She was drooling a little, and had skipped the whole nightgown thing, at least going by the bare shoulder and one breast free above the quilt.

Crowley was pretty sure she had never been happier in her entire life.

She pulled the quilt up a little, tucking Aziraphale in more securely and making sure she'd keep warm enough. Precious thing – she didn't feel the cold like Crowley did, but that was no excuse to risk her getting a bit chilly.

She kissed Aziraphale's head. Carefully, over a braid; she was particularly scratchy this morning for some reason, and wouldn't have her stubble touch her angel. Aziraphale might not mind, but  _Crowley_ sure as fuck did.

It was funny, she reflected, as she started to shave, careful sure movements with a straight razor to get her face perfectly soft and smooth. She was a woman with a cock; that was fine with her. Just how she was made and no point fussing about it. But she  _refused_ to be a woman with facial hair. Any male body hair really; she waxed her chest too, and had once waxed her legs as an experiment, but it had proven to be a long and messy affair for no one to benefit. And way out in a rural kingdom, no one much cared, and it wasn't the fashion, so why bother?

(Aziraphale had mentioned that everyone at Heaven's Court had shaved or waxed pretty much all their hair beneath their necks. She, lacking lover or even close friend, had given up after one trip to a spa and a  _very_ uncomfortable and ultimately hairless day. Farm girl that she was at heart, she didn't shave a thing and Crowley loved it, loved the contrast between that and her very carefully-kept public self.)

Face soon soft and clean, Crowley moved onto her cosmetics. Not much; a little blush to make her cheekbones stand out, mascara for her lashes and the tiniest bit of stain on her lips. There wasn't much to be done about the structure of her face, but she thought she made a pretty enough woman with a bit of help. She combed out her hair and braided it back loosely, a soft halo of red curls still around her face, and smiled at herself in the mirror. Vain thing that she was! But she felt right in her skin now, a lovely woman about to hit middle age, skinny as could be but helped with corset and Aziraphale's good influence to get her to eat perhaps a bit more often than usual. There was already the softest curve to her tummy, and she fancied her arms and hips were getting a bit rounder too. Nothing on her angel, but she never would be; they were built different, and it was wonderful.

Aziraphale was starting to stir when Crowley returned to their room to dress. She settled by the bed and rubbed one of her delicious hips, and kissed her cheek.

“Ungh,” Aziraphale said, and licked her lips. “Crowley?”

“Nah, 's the queen of Metropole,” Crowley teased, and got a groan for her troubles. “Feeling rotten, baby?”

“Wine. Stupid wine,” Aziraphale announced. “ _Ugh_.”

Crowley laughed softly and scritched the back of her neck. “Give me a moment to put on some clothes and I'll go fetch us some coffee. I assume Asha's in a similar state.”

“Prolly,” Aziraphale said, and cuddled under the blankets. “Why've I not got clothes on?”

“You tell me,” Crowley said, rising and beginning to dress, split drawers and a camisole first, both of soft linen. Stockings she'd knitted herself, tied with garters she'd woven and Aziraphale had embroidered for her. The pattern was, nominally, flowers. Crowley was pretty sure flowers weren't usually so...vulva-like...but she wasn't about to argue. “I woke up in your nightgown, with a naked woman sprawled beside me.”

“Huh. Well.” Aziraphale yawned and stretched and rolled onto her back to watch Crowley dress. “I love you.”

“I love you too, angel,” Crowley said, fastening her corset. She kept it laced for comfort and to help give her a bit of a waist, and just had to hook the split busk together of a morning, and that was done. “Truly, do you feel rotten?”

“Not that bad,” Aziraphale admitted. “A quiet day and coffee will do me. Sasha and the littles are coming by later aren't they?”

“Mmm, in a bit. I expect they had a late night too, or at least Sasha and Astra did.” Crowley smiled. “She's too old for Adam, but maybe Luna...?”

Aziraphale shook her head. “Only if it were a love match for the ages. We don't have any trade links with the Kingdom of Don, and to be honest, don't need any. They're decent allies, but too far to be of help in a fight. And there's enough of a link with Sasha being the Queen's demi-foster, for that year or so.”

“Fair,” Crowley conceded, and smiled at her. “I love being a weirdo cousin who can marry who I want, for the record.”

Aziraphale laughed and stretched and sat up, scratching her side. “Me too. For the record.” As Crowley worked the little buttons on her dress, settling the tight wool into place and smoothing it over her corset, Aziraphale set about her own toilette, undoing her hair from messy, flyaway braids and finger-combing the fluffy curls into something like neatness. “Just out of curiosity, were you promised to anyone? Does Annwn do the child-betrothal thing?”

“No, love,” Crowley said, moving on now to jewellery – just a simple bracelet of tigers-eye stones, and a pretty gold necklace, made to look like interlinked branches, and fit close around her neck. It looked nice against her summer-tanned skin, she fancied. “I'm sure Mother had a list from the moment she birthed me, but I was being kicked out about the time she would have really been shopping for a wife for me.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale said softly, and Crowley smiled at her. No harm done with the question, and she came over to kiss Aziraphale properly, before going off to hunt them down some coffee and a little nibble.

She checked on Asha too, knocking softly at her door and entering at the groan. “Sweetheart? I have coffee. And toast.”

Asha managed to actually push herself into sitting upright,  _and_ she'd got into a nightgown, so Crowley was happy to tell her she was beating Aziraphale out.

“That girl just likes taking her tits out,” Asha said and yawned. “By the way, I'd marry you this instant. You darling.”

“My pleasure,” Crowley said, setting down Asha's share of breakfast. “And I accept – d'you need anything else, future wife?”

“A hug and a kiss, then go back and breakfast with Aziraphale,” Asha said, holding out her arms, and getting a wonderful hug that turned into the two of them tumbling onto the bed in giggles, Asha snuggled in her arms. Her bedclothes were soft and warm, and Crowley was very happy to give her a cuddle and kiss for a minute. She was smaller than Aziraphale – shorter, and thinner too, and it felt rather nice having her all sweet and compact in Crowley's arms.

“I love you,” Crowley told her, and kissed her forehead. “Eat something, and you'll feel better.”

“Mmmhmm.” Asha smiled and stretched, took a few more moments to be held, and finally sat up, gently untangling herself from Crowley. “You too, honey. You _are_ good to us.”

“I got to hear more lesbian sexcapades last night, the two of you could ask me for anything right now,” Crowley teased. She hefted the tray onto her hip, though, and headed out, aiming for her and Aziraphale's room.

“Randy princess!” Asha called after her, and Crowley laughed, before she closed the door behind her.

Her cuddles from Aziraphale were just as grateful, and longer-lasting, and she was beyond happy sipping her coffee while her wife's silver-gold head rested on her chest, doing justice to the toast and her own strong coffee.

They worked their reviving magic, and although Crowley guessed they wouldn't be going on any long hikes that day, the Library was soon cozy and welcoming, the three of them settled happily by the fire. Aziraphale still felt a bit poorly, and lay with her head in Asha's lap and graciously allowed the other two women to fuss over her. In between brewing pots of tea, flirting with Asha, and kissing Aziraphale, Crowley even got some knitting done; Chae might actually get new socks before winter at this rate.

When there was a knock at the Library door, Aziraphale actually sat up like a person. She really _didn't_ feel that poorly – being honest, she wanted the quiet time cuddling with Asha and oh _all right_ being fussed over was...nice. Silly, she didn't _need_ it (didn't deserve it, the nasty part of her brain told her, but she ignored that), but it was lovely.

Still. With proper visitor, she could act like she had basic social skills, which meant not cuddling mournfully in Asha's lap, getting her hair played with and regularly being hugged and squished and offered tea.

So she was sitting up, quite the proper Maestra Librarian, when Sasha and her brood tumbled in, the girls cheerful and giggly, ready for the road in their travelling-outfits, and Sasha looking a little tired, but cheerful – and going straight into Crowley's arms as soon as she stood. Aziraphale approved; anyone who could look on her demoness that fondly was good people.

“Maestras, please, don't get up for us,”she insisted, plunking down herself in a spare easy chair. “Jacob has something to say to you, Maestra Aziraphale.”

He toddled over to her and looked up. “Sorry,” he said. “'m really sorry.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said, heart melting unexpectedly. “Apology accepted.”

He grinned. “We're friends now?”

Well she wasn't made of _stone_. “Of course,” she said, and laughed when he took this as excuse to haul himself up onto her lap. “We'll be good friends, you and me,” she informed him, and got a lovely little hug. He wasn't even sticky, which was rare with children of that age. Really, he was a charming little fellow, snuggling happily up against her.

She chatted with Astra, finding her well-educated and a little shy, which won Aziraphale's heart over.

“Are you promised to marry yet?” she asked gently, and Astra shook her head.

“Not just yet. Papa insisted I finish my education first, and Mama doesn't want me to grow up too fast.” She blushed, and ducked her head. “And I wouldn't know the first thing about courting.”

“Well, I don't know that I'm a great expert, but I've found it mostly fun,” Aziraphale offered. “Though partnering for love alone is different, I suppose.”

Astra nodded, face serious. “I'm glad I'll be able to make links with my kingdom and another,” she admitted. “I'm proud of that. I just worry about being...a disappointment.”

Aziraphale checked quickly – Crowley was deep in conversation with Sasha, both of them smiling widely. Good. “Honestly, so do I,” she said softly. “Even in a love match, I worry I won't be enough for her.”

“But she _worships_ you,” Astra protested.

Aziraphale smiled. “Worship might be a bit much. We're very in love, but I promise you, I still worry. I think it's...something about us. You and me, I mean. We worry about those things, and it's totally alien to those who love us.”

Astra smiled softly at that. “I see what you mean. But what if my husband doesn't love me?”

“Then it's not a good match,” Aziraphale said. “Look at your mum and dad. It might be a political marriage, but there's love there too. Respect. You don't _have_ to have romantic love for one another – I know of plenty of political marriages that don't, and work just fine. But he's got to respect you, and like you, or it won't work. D'you understand?”

“No,” Astra said frankly. “Am I terribly sheltered?”

“Yes, but I'd get on my knees every night and pray that you be too sheltered, than that you go through anything like what Crowley and I did to _lose_ our innocence,” Aziraphale said softly. “You're smart, Astra. You're clever and kind and good. That will take you so far.”

Astra smiled at her. “With the right husband, yes. Thank you, Maestra. You're honest, and I...appreciate that.”

Aziraphale smiled at her. “You're so welcome.” She patted Jacob's back – he was dozing now, sweet little beast that he was. “I hope you can come visit us at Terra. Before or after marriage, dear. We'd adore hosting you.”

Astra ducked her head and grinned. “You'll never pry Luna out of the Library.”

Aziraphale giggled with her, and they made devious plans to leave Crowley and Luna and Sasha with the books and some tea and cakes, and take to horses themselves, roaming the countryside.

Sasha lingered as long as she could, but too soon they had to take their leave. Aziraphale rose to hug the girls goodbye and hand Jacob over to Astra's care before embracing Sasha.

“I am _so_ glad I finally met you,” she said warmly. “You're welcome in Terra anytime. As our personal guests, if nothing else.”

Sasha laughed, and hugged her back. “With pleasure. And likewise. It's wonderful meeting you, Maestra. Crowley's in good hands.”

“The best,” Aziraphale promised softly. “I love her so much.”

“And she, you.” Sasha kissed her cheek. “I'll write soon, I promise.”

“So will we. Travel safe, darling.”

Crowley and Sasha had already said their goodbyes, quiet things whispered that Aziraphale deliberately ignored, because they weren't for her. But they hugged one last time, unable to resist, and both were laughing a little and crying a little too.

“I love you,” Sasha said. “You wonderful woman.”

“I love you too,” Crowley said, and kissed her cheek again, and hugged her tight. “Go, go, you'll be late for your own entourage!”

Sasha laughed, kissed her one last-no-really-last time, and left, all but running to make their carriage waiting out front.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Asha and Aziraphale said in concert, and Crowley laughed and went into their arms, both women petting and kissing her.

“I'm fine, truly,” she said. “I have my friend back. I'm happy.”

“I know, love,” Aziraphale said, and kissed her, and kissed her again. “Sweet lass. Cuddle up in Asha's arms and I'll make us some cocoa, for a treat.”

“I don't need a treat,” Crowley mumbled, as Asha led them to a sofa and tugged her into her lap.

“Noted. I, however, do,” Aziraphale declared, and went to go bother the kitchen for some milk.

She came back to a wonderfully sweet scene – and, oh, it was beautiful too. Asha's dark brown skin against Crowley's, the two of them cuddled together, Crowley's face on her shoulder, their hair mingling. Brown locs tangling with red curls; Aziraphale's heart was full for them both, her two women she loved so fiercely, in such different ways. She put milk on to heat and went over to the sofa just for a moment, to kiss them both and stroke Asha's hair. “You're so beautiful together.”

Asha smiled up at her and hugged Crowley tighter. “Be even more beautiful when you join us.”

“Flatterer.” She and Asha had always been stunning together; similar in personality, contrasting in looks. She kissed her girl, and kissed her other girl, and went to make sure the milk didn't boil over.

And then it was over. Not, Aziraphale could admit, that her daily life was any kind of grind, but their holiday was over. They stayed one more day, but the weather was set to turn, and home was calling. There were hugs and kisses goodbye, promises to write, promises to take care of oneself extracted, and more hugs and kisses.

Aziraphale may have cried, just a little bit, before she hauled herself up into Aster's saddle.

“I'll see you in the spring,” Asha reminded her, patting her calf. “Be good for me. I don't want my Christmas letter to be all about how you fell off a horse again.”

“That was once!” Aziraphale protested.

“Really? Because she really wasn't badly hurt at all, and it got me out of a week of family obligations...I'll hush now,” Crowley said with a grin.

“You too, Princess. You owe me a Christmas letter too,” Asha demanded. Of course they wrote back and forth all the time, but the yearly letter was sacred.

“Promise.” Crowley leaned down, a little scared of losing her balance, but the kiss she got was worth it. “Right, we're off,” she decided, because otherwise they'd never leave.

So she and Aziraphale turned their horses and set off side-by-side over the wide road that led to home. Neither of them Terran-born, but they'd lie there after death, and they argued and worked and made love and slept together and...home. It was home, and she was ready to settle in to the long, quiet winter, their holiday fulfilled and done.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> dietraumerei.tumblr.com


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